


Fine Men

by sileya



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sileya/pseuds/sileya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After forming an unlikely friendship, Jack Sparrow and James Norrington embark on a quest to better each other, so that they both might be fine men.</p><p><img/><br/>Banner by sileya</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fine Men

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. This series presumes the sequels did not happen. Reformatted for posting at AO3 on 7/25/12. Originally posted from 11/25/07 to 6/22/08 at http://sileyascribbles.livejournal.com/157393.html.

The orchestra playing in the background provided a tune for the slow, measured dance, walked by men and women dressed carefully for such a toity society event. The women of Port Royal wore long gowns and corsets, white gloves and jewels, and intricate upswept hairstyles; the men had donned rich-colored jackets and ruffled shirts, stockings and breeches, and proper powdered wigs.

A chosen few deep blue jackets with gold trim highlighted their number, hung upon the stock-straight postures of the Naval officers present. Most specifically upon the tall, dashing frame of one Commodore James Norrington.

One Commodore James Norrington, who stood at the balcony railing, full champagne glass in hand, eyes turned upon the shining, tossing sea as it crashed upon the white sand below the cliffs.

He felt much like the driftwood carried upon the tide. Battered, worn away, polished and tossed.

The wedding party went on around him, his appearance offering his tacit approval and support of the Turner-Swann union, instead of the Norrington-Swann union as had once been expected, if only not for a change of heart on the fort’s battlements under the Caribbean sun.

James wondered now if he’d taken ill with sun sickness that day. The circumstances surely supported such. And one only need turn around to see one flouncing popinjay to prove it. The commodore closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Come, Commodore, surely ’tis not so bad, to attend such a splendid occasion.”

James turned his chin to lay eyes upon said popinjay, dressed to the nines. For a pirate. Stifling a sigh, James silently corrected himself. _Privateer_. “Good day… Captain Sparrow.”

Dark, dark eyes, even darker now lined with kohl, were focused on the Navy man’s clean-shaven face. Those eyes danced with amusement. “Good day… Commodore Norrington,” Jack answered, mimicking the drawn-out naming.

Swallowing another put-upon sigh, James knew he would do well to at least appear cordial. “Splendid occasion, indeed,” he agreed, though he could inject little enthusiasm into his voice.

Although usually jolly, Jack’s smile was at this time quite small, and his eyes tamed themselves. “Indeed,” he agreed, unusually reserved.

James was somewhat surprised, were he to be honest. He studied the pir— _privateer_ a little more closely. It appeared the captain had not only cleaned himself up for the occasion, but attired himself somewhat more appropriately. “And how do you find this _splendid occasion_ , if I might ask, Captain Sparrow?”

Jack looked over the commodore. The same stiff shoulders, ramrod straight back, wig and hat just so. His lips twitched. “Well, as you do know, I am passing fond of young Will and the lovely Miss Swann—Mrs. Turner,” he answered, one shoulder sliding forward in an abbreviated motion of his normal flap.

“Aren’t you just,” James said, finally taking a short sip of his champagne.

“And you, Commodore, _you_. Your presence here is surely a surprise to some,” Jack mentioned, reaching out to lift the glass from the other man’s hand and taking a long draught.

James barely blinked as the glass disappeared from his grip. “Surely it is,” he murmured, clasping his hands behind his back and turning toward the sea. He knew Jack studied him. Just as did all the rest of society. Some disapproving, some pitying.

“Fancy a game of chess?”

Blinking, the commodore turned toward the captain, surprise clear on his face. “Chess?” he echoed.

Jack’s lips twitched. “Aye, Commodore. Chess. I’d be surprised if you’re not familiar with the game.”

“I am indeed familiar with chess,” James answered, mystified.

“Come along, then, Commodore. The Governor has a lovely board all set in his study, along with some better drink than this,” the captain said with an eye roll as he set the empty flute on the stone wall of the terrace. __

Three hours later, James was still mystified. The game had started simply enough after they had poured themselves satisfying tumblers of liquor. As the time progressed, they each grew more comfortable. Both now sprawled in the armchairs facing the board, jackets removed, hats set carefully aside.

And James was confounded. Captain Jack Sparrow could play chess, and far surpassing well. A wry smile pulled at his mouth as the he tipped his king. “Well played,” James complimented, raising his eyes to meet the dark ones across the board.

“Thank you,” Jack answered simply, only the slightest trace of his drawl to be heard.

James took up his glass and sat back, gazing across the board at his opponent. “Where did you learn to play chess?”

A toss of Jack’s head sent the trinkets braided into his black hair to tinkling. “In many hours spent a-sea, of course,” he said. “One of my for-a-time crew was an educated man, and we passed the time.”

“You seem to have acquired some skill,” James admitted from behind his tumbler of scotch.

Jack toasted him. “I accept your compliment, Commodore, with thanks.”

They sat in the strange, companionable silence, sipping at their drinks. “I suppose I might have to reform my opinion about you,” James said slowly, running his eyes over the other man’s face.

A smile slowly pulled at Jack’s lips. “Will you, then,” he commented, dark eyes dancing.

James’s nose wrinkled. “You find that amusing.”

“Indeed I do, Commodore,” Jack replied. “As unto now our relationship has merely been you chasing and me escaping.”

“Not every time,” James quickly corrected.

“Not every time,” Jack allowed with a nod. “Though you wouldn’t have that, had it not been for the blacksmith, and then Barbossa,” he said with a bit more of his usual flair.

“It matters not. It wasn’t every time that you escaped,” James said expansively.

Jack’s smile reflected his amusement. “It wasn’t every time,” he agreed again.

James narrowed his eyes. “What are you laughing at? Me?”

Jack snorted and nodded, his smile broadening. James frowned and leaned back in his chair petulantly as the captain chuckled.

“See here, now, Captain, I am not a man to be laughed about,” James insisted.

“I must respectfully disagree,” Jack said merrily.

James’s nose wrinkled as he stood up and went to the bar to refill his glass. When he turned about, it was to find himself chest to chest with Jack. James flinched in surprise.

“Captain?”

“Jack.”

“I know that,” James huffed.

“You do,” Jack confirmed, not moving a bit.

“Captain.”

“Jack.”

“ _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, what are you about?”

Jack slowly smiled. “Just being neighborly.” And he shifted to the side to reach for the bottle.

Off balance, James stepped away, confused. “This isn’t neighborly,” he finally objected.

“I must disagree, Commodore,” Jack said, turning with his refilled tumbler to face the other man.

“Of course you must, Captain,” James said, rolling his eyes.

“Jack.”

“ _Captain_ Jack—”

“Well, I suppose it’s an improvement.”

James just stared at the pir— _privateer_. “What are you about?” he repeated himself.

Jack walked slowly toward and then around the commodore. “Just being neighborly,” he repeated himself.

James shook his head, stymied. “Why would I be neighborly to you?”

“You _are_ being neighborly to me. Scotch,” he said, lifting his glass. “Discussion,” he said, gesturing about the room. “Challenge,” he said, walking over to stand by the chess board. He watched James the entire time.

Listening suspiciously, James finally nodded. “Well. I wouldn’t necessarily call that _neighborly_.”

Jack opened chuckled, toasting the other man as he reseated himself in the armchair with all his usual flounce. “Well, _I_ would.”

James pulled himself up stiffly. “I am not neighborly with pir—”

“Ah ah ah,” Jack said, waggling a finger.

James sighed and deflated. “ _Privateers_ ,” he muttered.

Jack grinned, his gold tooth catching a glint of sun. “Now, Commodore, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Turning up his nose, James sat down in his chair a bit harder than he needed to, giving a soft grunt in acknowledgement.

Jack laughed openly. “How about a walk, Commodore? It’s getting a bit overwarm in here.”

James looked down at his dress uniform. “What have you in mind? Back out on the terrace with the guests?”

That tinkling sound again. “No, Commodore, I fancy a walk on the beach.”

“The beach? I’m not at all attired to walk on the beach. Absolutely not.”

“I suppose we could go back out to the terrace. Fine food and spirits, all the lovely matrons and ladies watching your every move…” Jack baited.

James stiffened again, looking supremely uncomfortably.

“I’m sure it would only be a matter of minutes before you would find some sort of companion for dancing and small talk. Many of the ladies present fancy a titled husband,” Jack added.

“Fine,” James said abruptly, standing so quickly the chair scooted back with a rough squeak. “A walk on the beach.”

Jack bounced up. “Well, now, a fine suggestion,” he said brightly. But as James reached for his jacket, he frowned. “Commodore, that won’t do, not at all.”

James looked up in surprise. “What?”

“You won’t need that fine jacket for the beach, or this lovely vest,” Jack said, tugging lightly at a chain hooking two buttons together across James’s chest.

James frowned. “Whyever not?”

Jack shook his head mournfully. “Don’t you have any idea how to relax? You cannot wear a dress uniform to the beach and have the remotest hope of enjoying yourself.” As for himself, he unwound his long, scarlet sash and laid it with his jacket before starting to unbutton his own colorful vest.

James watched blankly. “Are you _undressing_?” His voice sounded scandalized.

“Very good powers of observation,” Jack complimented.

“Observ… are you _undressing_?”

“Commodore. Off with that fancy vest. You don’t want the salt and sand to ruin it and burnish your buttons.”

“Have you any idea how inappropriate this is?” James said.

“Inappropriate. Pffft,” Jack replied, pulling off his vest so he stood in boots, trousers, belt and shirt.

Taken aback, James just stared.

“Husband?” Jack reminded.

James started unbuttoning.

“There, see, you have your priorities right, Commodore.”

“I’m not so sure I agree, Captain,” James muttered as the chains clinked quietly.

“Jack.”

“Capt—why do you keep doing that?”

“Just being neighborly,” Jack said easily.

James’s eyes narrowed. “Neighborly.”

“Yes,” Jack agreed, shifting his weight back and forth.

James finished unfastening the vest and slid it from his shoulders. “We aren’t neighbors.”

“Ah, but we could be.”

“We _could_ be?”

“Aye.”

“I think not, Captain.”

“Jack.”

“ _Cap_ …” James sighed heavily. “Jack.”

Jack smiled widely and bounced a little. James just shook his head, the look on his face one of put-upon suffering. “Fine. Call me James. But not in company, mind you.”

Jack shook his head, face pious. James didn’t believe it for a moment. Then Jack reached up and started untying James’s cravat. Blinking in surprise, James grabbed Jack’s hands.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll keel over in the heat, wearing that thing, unable to breath,” Jack said logically. “You were red as a tomato outside earlier.”

“A _tomato_?”

“Aye, a lovely, juicy red tomato. Though, it also may have been the blush after the fourth lady petitioned for your hand,” Jack said, eyes dancing.

James felt his cheeks heat.

“Yes, exactly!” Jack said, eyes widening in delight.

James yanked at the cravat, pulling it off and folding it carefully, laying it beside his vest. “And what else must I do to be appropriately attired for the beach?” he asked drolly.

“Now, James, don’t be so negative. It doesn’t suit you at all, luv.”

“Luv?” James objected.

“Now I’m of the mind to say that you need to—”

“ _Luv_?” James repeated, voice just as offended.

“James,” Jack said consolingly.

“Jack,” James said dangerously.

Jack’s grin was rakish. “Off with the wig.”

James stared. “Excuse me?”

“The wig,” Jack prompted. “Off with it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Husband?”

“I don’t see how—”

“They’ll recognize you from the terrace and come down to the beach.”

James hesitated, glancing to the window that looked out onto the party.

“A walk on the beach would be quite refreshing,” Jack prodded, slowly walking around the other man.

James’s eyes darted about, following Jack’s progress. The captain stopped in place and smiled innocently. James frowned deeply.

“James, don’t disappoint me,” Jack tried.

James’s eyes widened. “Disappoint you?”

“Have you no spirit? No backbone?”

“No _backbone_? What are you talking about, you crazy pir—”

“Ah ah ah,” Jack said, waggling a finger.

“You crazy _pirate_ ,” James asserted loudly.

Jack affected an offended moue.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” James muttered, turning away to walk to a small table in front of a gilded mirror. Frowning the whole time, he started pulling pins from the wig.

Jack watched, a small smile growing. James pulled off the wig and set it down carefully. His dark brown hair was caught back in a black ribbon, and he smoothed it down.

“Now that I am a complete laughingstock, do I meet with your approval?” James said cynically.

“Yes, James,” Jack said quietly. “Look quite handsome, you do, without all that frippery.”

James was taken aback. “You’re not one to talk about frippery,” he accused.

“Ah, but my frippery is entertaining and gorgeous,” Jack said gaily, slinking across the room toward James. “Yours is just stuffy.”

“Stuffy?” James’s voice again raised in protest.

“Come along, James,” Jack said, ignoring the other man’s reply. “The beach awaits.”

Muttering, James followed him. “What am I supposed to say when we are accosted by the guests and my manner of undress is brought to light?”

“We’ll just have to make sure we won’t be accosted by guests, won’t we?” Jack said cheekily, glancing out the study door to check the hallway.

“I’m going to regret this,” James mumbled.

Jack looked over his shoulder at the man behind him, taking in the firm, wiry body usually hidden under layers of fabric, now set off by simple, embroidered cotton; the dark hair already curling about James’s neck and ears since released from the wig; and the melting façade that revealed the true man who took refuge behind so much formality.

“No, luv, you won’t.”

James drew a breath to object to the preposterous endearment once again, but Jack shushed him as he opened the door wider. When James hesitated, Jack reached back, took hold of his arm and pulled him along.

They moved through the second floor, Jack prancing as if he were a dashing thief—which he _was_ , James reminded himself—while James walked after him straight-backed with his hands tucked behind him, trying to preserve what little dignity he had left. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed Jack to talk him into this.

Sun sickness. It must be sun sickness.

After two near misses where Jack caught James about the waist and held him back, they emerged from the service entrance to the manor. Jack took off at a lope to make it to a tree and hide behind the trunk. James shook his head and rolled his eyes, strolling sedately down the path.

“James. James!” Jack hissed.

Hands again tucked properly behind him, James turned an exasperated look on Jack.

“Don’t you know anything about sneaking?” Jack asked.

“Sneaking? Members of His Royal Majesty’s Navy do not _sneak_ ,” James asserted.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Then it’s a good thing His Royal Majesty’s Navy isn’t here, isn’t it?” He grabbed James’s arm and yanked him along to behind a rose trellis.

“Jack, is this really necessary?” James asked as he stumbled along.

“Shhhh.”

“Jack,” James tried again. “Be reasonable.”

Jack turned around to look at James. His black eyes flashed with humor and his teeth were framed by a wide smile. “Now, James, what would be the fun in that? You’re more than reasonable enough for both of us.”

“ _Lord_ , no truer words have been spoken…”

Jack grabbed James’s arm and they were off again, out the back of the garden and into the trees. Jack soon found a path that meandered down the hillside, leading to the beach. Soon they walked on the hard-packed sand just above where the tide washed up.

The breeze off the sea was cooler than that heated wind upon the terrace, and James found himself, against his better judgment, relaxing as he walked by Jack’s side. He would never have thought he would be doing this. The wind blew a lock of his dark hair into his face, and he absently smoothed it back behind one ear.

“Why aren’t you married, James?” James turned his chin in surprise as Jack continued. “I mean besides recent events, of course.”

James studied Jack’s face, which was remarkably open and curious. It struck him then that Jack hid very little. He was up front in all his dealings, in James’s experience, and that was remarkably rare—also in James’s experience.

“The Navy, I suppose,” James answered slowly. “The Governor hinted at Elizabeth’s hand some time ago, pending my promotion so that I might provide a comfortable life for her. There was no reason to go looking.”

“And no desire.”

“What?” James asked, stopping in the sand.

Jack turned to face him. He had one thumb hooked into his waistband as he gestured with the other. “No desire. To find another woman to take to wife.”

James calmed. He’d made an assumption. “Yes. I suppose that fits well enough.”

“Don’t you enjoy women?” Jack asked curiously as he started to walk again.

“Of course I enjoy—just why are we discussing this?” James started walking as well.

“Just being neighborly.”

“Jack, you know full well this discussion is far beyond the bounds of being neighborly,” James chastised.

“Being friendly, then,” Jack amended.

“We’re not friends,” James said automatically.

Jack stopped, which caused James to pause and look back. The other man’s normally ebullient nature seemed shadowed. “You’re right, of course,” Jack said slowly. “We’re not friends.”

James dropped his eyes. The answer had passed his lips without thought, and despite its veracity, he regretted its harshness. Then a hand settled on his shoulder. When he looked up, it was into a revitalized Jack’s eyes.

“Don’t worry, James. I’ll keep working on you.”

James’s brows rose. “ _Working_ on me?”

Jack smiled even wider and patted his shoulder again. “Don’t you worry,” he repeated. “There’s hope for you yet.”

“Hope?” James echoed as Jack turned them both to start walking again.

“As you know, I’m a persistent man,” Jack said expansively.

“Dear God, I cannot handle such truth,” James moaned.

Jack swatted his arm. “And I have faith that you are not so stuck up as you often act—”

“ _Stuck up_?”

“And that with my good influence, we’ll make you into a fine man yet.”

“Jack,” James growled.

“You’re already a fine sailor, James, why not also be a fine man?”

The compliment was marred by the further veiled insult. “Do tell, Captain Sparrow—”

“Jack.”

“ _Captain Sparrow_. Do tell why I am not now a fine man.”

Jack stopped on the sand and turned James to face him. They weren’t even an arm’s length apart. “I think we can be friends, James. I think you need it, to remember that not everything is duty and orders and propriety. I think I need it, to remember that not everything is rum and treasure and careless living.” He paused, and their two sets of dark eyes met. “Then perhaps, we both might be fine men.”

James studied Jack, his eyes reflecting his surprise at such fully formed and accurate thoughts. Minutes passed as the water crashed upon the beach, wearing a tiny bit of the solid earth away to carry it into the sea. But with the next wave, a different tiny bit of dirt was returned to compact upon the sandbar, and so the circle continued.

_He was the ocean and I was the sand…_

“Perhaps, Jack. Perhaps we both might be fine men.”

By mutual silent assent, they both turned and resumed their walk on the beach as the calm wind passed them by and the living sea welcomed them home.


	2. One Fine Day

“Back again, are you?”

“James! Lovely to see you,” Jack said as he turned with a flounce.

“Indeed,” the commodore said dryly as he stopped at Jack’s side and nodded to Mr. and Mrs. Turner.

“Jack was just telling us he’s staying to visit for a few days,” Elizabeth explained, clapping her hands. “He’s been gone so long!”

“He’s only been gone three months,” James objected.

Will, Elizabeth and Jack all looked at him. James resisted the urge to shuffle his feet or let the discomfort show on his face as he scrambled for something intelligent to say. He was an intelligent man, after all. “Is Sunday not your birthday, Mrs. Turner?”

Will and Elizabeth went from blank to smiling. “Oh yes,” Elizabeth said. “That’s right. My father is hosting a dinner for us.” They appeared to completely lose sight of the fact that James had known exactly how long Jack had been gone.

Jack continued to watch James, a slight smile curving his lips.

“You’ll be there, won’t you, Commodore?” Elizabeth asked.

“Well, Mrs. Turner, as you know I am occupied at the fort—”

“Come now, James. Don’t be so stuffy,” Jack admonished.

“Stuffy?” James repeated just as Will murmured “Jack” and jabbed him in the ribs.

“Stuffy,” Jack said again, ignoring Will. “Bend a little, man, fair Elizabeth has asked you to attend.” He looked at James intently.

James sniffed and clenched his jaw. He knew full well to what the pirate— _privateer_ —no, damn him, _pirate_ —alluded. The commodore sighed. “Very well, Mrs. Turner. I shall be honored to attend.”

Elizabeth smiled and bounced again, happy. Jack met James’s eyes and nodded approvingly. James simply rolled his eyes as Elizabeth took his arm, and they all started walking up the cobblestone path.

“I’m so glad you’re staying, Jack,” Will said. “I’ve been missing the _Pearl_.”

“You’re quite welcome to come aboard for a visit, dear William, and well you know it,” Jack said, gesticulating his agreement. Those kohl-lined eyes shifted to the stiff-necked, starched Navy man being dragged up the street. “As are you, Commodore.”

“Me? Visit the _Black Pearl_? Whatever for?”

“’Tis a fine ship, the _Pearl_ ,” her captain expounded.

James wrinkled his nose. “My memories of the _Black Pearl_ are not so _fine_ ,” he answered, trying to tuck his hands behind him as Elizabeth hung on to his arm.

“All the more reason to replace them,” Jack pointed out.

“He’s right, Commodore,” Will said.

“Yes, Commodore, he’s—”

“Right. Yes, I see,” James said wryly, clearly outnumbered.

“It’s settled!” Jack announced, throwing both hands in the air.

Elizabeth and Will chattered happily, pulling James along, and Jack followed them, a thoughtful look on his face.

So it was that Will was to darken James’s doorstep early in the morning two days later, having arranged for them to walk together to the _Black Pearl_. James was still rather peeved at having been strong-armed into this sojourn, but he would weather it with the appropriate propriety.

James sat at his desk working on correspondence as he waited for young Turner to arrive, and he muttered slightly about the time that would be taken for today’s pointless trip. He sniffed and dipped his pen into the inkwell just as the butler announced his visitor had arrived.

“Show him in, please,” the commodore answered distractedly as he tried to finish this particular stack of papers.

“So typical, James, to see you hard at work barely after the cock’s crow.”

James just let his eyes close as he heard a chorus of tiny tinkles. He would have hung his head if he thought it would make him feel better. With a clear sigh of consternation, James looked up at Jack. “And what brings you to my doorstep rather than I to yours?” he asked the pirate— _privateer_ —semicordially.

“And a _fine_ morning to you as well, James,” Jack said brightly, hooking one hand in his belt as he sashayed toward the desk.

James’s nose wrinkled. “Good morning, Jack,” he said, annoyed to be put in his place for not observing the proprieties. “And how are you this fine day?”

“Fabulous, James. It’s beautiful outside,” he answered, leaning forward with that slight sway of his to emphasize his point. “And you should be out in it, not locked up in this…” Jack waved a hand, looking around at the dark walls, dark furniture, impersonal office with everything exactly in its place. “House.” His face took on a pinched quality. “Do you really live here?” he tacked on, not very thinly veiled horror crossing his face.

“Of course I live here,” James retorted. “Why else would it be my house?”

Jack gave him a look of strong disapproval. “It’s a house, and that’s all it is. It’s not a home. Not like the _Pearl_ is to me.”

James laid down his pen and sat back in his chair. He leveled his eyes with Jack’s before speaking. “Not all of us are so lucky.”

The pirate tipped his head to one side, studying him. “Perhaps not,” he allowed.

“Now, Jack, why are you here and not aboard your ship?” James asked.

Jack peered at him for another moment before purposely flashing a wide smile. “I’m here to take you to the _Pearl_ , remember?”

“I distinctly remember Mr. Turner saying he would stop by here on the way to the ship,” the commodore said, not looking up from the paperwork he’d resumed.

“Yes, well, about that. You see, it seems there was a small accident with a carriage that needed immediate attention from the blacksmith,” Jack explained.

James looked up with narrowed eyes, and Jack smiled innocently. James didn’t believe it for a second.

“So then, Jamie, you’ll be changing into more reasonable clothes; we’ll stop at the tavern near the docks for a cask of libations; and we’ll be off to the _Pearl_ for a full day’s sail.”

There were so many things wrong with that announcement that James had no idea where to start.

He stood stiffly and fixed a disapproving look on Jack before opening his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by…

“Now, James, no arguments. Wasn’t the walk on the beach so wonderfully refreshing? This will be the same, only it will renew your soul,” Jack promised.

James folded his hands behind his back. “Jack, are you purposely trying to lead me astray?”

Jack’s glinting grin was all the reply he needed to make, although he did tuck his thumbs in his belt and rock back and forth on his heels.

The commodore rolled his eyes. “I take it I should not wear a proper uniform.”

“Pfft. Proper. Today there is no proper allowed,” Jack declared, moving around the desk to start herding James to the door.

“Jack, I have a reputation—”

“Which clearly needs help, because I’m of a mind to be saying, the townspeople’s opinion of you needs some serious revising,” Jack muttered.

“I’ll have you know my reputation is above reproach!”

“Above approach is more like it,” Jack said as he practically pushed James out the door of the study and toward the stairs.

“I’m perfectly approachable,” James insisted.

“And when was the last time someone approached you for simple, pleasant conversation rather than to gain stature, your indulgence, or your name?” Jack posed, nudging the commodore to get him moving up the stairs.

James’s mind went blank, and Jack took full advantage. “So you see, my dear commodore—which one is your room, luv?—that your reputation is so slow, stodgy and so impenetrable that the folk you protect actually fear you.”

James halted on his dressing room’s threshold. “They do not fear me,” he rebutted.

“Aye, but they do,” Jack confirmed, managing to get James inside the door. He finally left off prodding him to move and went to rifle the wardrobe.

“Then why don’t I—just what do you think you’re doing?” James asked in alarm as pieces of clothing starting flying out of the heavy cabinet in random directions.

“You need reasonable clothing if you’re going to help sail the _Pearl_ today,” Jack’s muffled voice answered.

“Dear Lord,” James prayed under his breath. “Do get out of there,” he commanded.

Jack’s head appeared around the heavy wooden door. “But I’m not finished. I’ve only just found you some trousers.” He held out a halfway decent pair of deep brown pants, tapered at the knee. They weren’t quite threadbare. James kept them to wear when he worked in the garden, for which he’d had no time since his promotion.

“I’m not wearing those out in the public square!” James said firmly.

“You’re not going to the public square, now are you, luv?” Jack said, having ducked back into the wardrobe.

“Jack Sparrow,” the commodore growled as he descended upon the wardrobe, only to almost run into the pirate’s hand extending a loose shirt deep maroon in color.

“That will do nicely,” Jack said. “Have you some boots?”

James held the clothes. “You’re going to nag and annoy me until I change clothes, aren’t you,” he said in resignation.

Jack peeked out from the wardrobe again. “We’re getting to know each other so well, Jamie,” he drawled.

“James. Not Jamie. Not luv. James or even better, Commodore,” James said through gritted teeth.

“James, aye,” Jack placated.

The commodore shook his head. How such a devious pirate could give him such an innocent—angelic, even—look was beyond him.

When they left by the back door, James was certain this was a bad idea.

“Come along, James, things to do so we can get on the water,” Jack said, leading the way down the cobbled alley with his recognizable flounce. James followed along much more sedately.

When they arrived at the pub, James dug in his heels. “Absolutely not.”

Jack turned around, visibly outraged. “Absolutely not? You can’t tell me, James, that you don’t appreciate a warming drink from time to time.”

“Of course I’m not saying that. What I’m saying is that commodores do not patronize lower class taverns where pirates undoubtedly congregate,” James tried to explain.

“So ignore them,” Jack suggested helpfully.

“Jack, surely you understand. It’s just not possible. I have to do my job—”

“Actually, luv, I don’t understand. You’re not working today. You’re not even a commodore today. You’re just James,” Jack said evenly, both hands on his hips. “Savvy?”

James blinked at him. “Just James.”

“Aye. Just James,” Jack repeated, smiling a bit.

James once again had the feeling that this could only go badly. “It’s on your head, if someone shoots me because they feel threatened by His Royal Majesty’s Navy,” he said, jabbing a finger into Jack’s chest.

Jack looked wounded, pressing one hand to his chest, rubbing where James had poked him. “Would I allow that to happen?”

“Possibly,” James growled.

“Perhaps if the commodore were here,” Jack allowed with a thoughtful look on his face. But a happy smile quickly transformed him. “But he’s not, so, rum!” He turned and slinked his way to the door.

It was nearly an hour later when James finally dragged Jack out of the tavern. Two women nearly pulled the pirate back inside as they clung to his arms playfully. Jack stopped to kiss each woman, flatter them outrageously, and take liberties with particular rounded parts of female anatomy before sending them on their way with a generous pat to their behinds.

Ironically, it was James carrying the small cask. “Jack Sparrow, you are a wicked man. And you are attempting to lure me into sin,” he said drolly.

Jack grinned and sketched a bow. “A lovely compliment, James.”

James rolled his eyes. “Let’s be on our way, shall we? Before the ladies seek to regain your company.”

“Aye, but what about that little redhead who attached herself to your hip,” Jack said with a wide wink. “I bet she wasn’t after your name.”

James’s cheeks actually flushed, tickling Jack so much that the pirate cackled gleefully.

To James’ surprise, the day moved along at a steady clip; they passed it upon the salty water under the orange sun once the _Black Pearl_ left harbor. Pointed in the direction of the rigging, James shrugged and pitched in, drawing on long-past experience. It was hot work, and he relished the feel of the cool wind upon his overheated skin once he and Jack stripped off their shirts after hauling rope and sail around for mending.

They sat out on the deck to eat a simple lunch of jerky and fruit, with water for James and rum for Jack, though Jack did manage to get James to indulge in a couple swallows.

The sun waned slowly; a captain-led tour was the order of business that afternoon, a bit below and most above, introducing James to the _Black Pearl_ “right and proper,” which made James laugh. That laugh earned him a swat that he didn’t even frown over.

An offhand comment on the part of one of the crew saw James and Jack facing each other in a friendly wager. It was exhilarating for James, a superior fencer himself, to cross swords with Jack and find a fine, challenging match. They chased each other all over the ship, teasing and taunting, laughing and growling as the crew cheered them on.

Afterward, Jack toasted him with yet more rum, and James didn’t argue when handed his own tankard.

He’d never thought he’d again enjoy a day of hard labor at sea; many years had passed since his last stint as a midshipman. But it was exactly what he needed. It was a cleansing that allowed him to totally step away from his own life, if only for a short time.

“Now you see what you’re missing.”

James turned from where he stood at the ship’s rail to look at Jack. “Missing?”

“Aye, missing, and missing quite a bit, if I’m not wrong.”

Jack slowly walked around James, looking him up and down. Scuffed boots. Worn trousers with a new hole in one knee. Untucked, sweat-marked shirt. Trails of damp dirt winding down the sides of his neck from his temple. Surprisingly dark, loose and windblown hair. Sparkling mahogany brown eyes.

“You’ve never looked as fine a man as you do now,” Jack said, genuine.

James was surprised. “Jack, I simply don’t understand you. I’m a mess.”

“It’s really quite simple,” Jack said matter-of-factly, still intent.

“Obviously it’s not,” James said in annoyance.

“Obviously it _is_ , but you won’t let yourself see it. It’s not proper,” Jack stressed, hands on his hips as he looked at James sternly.

“What am I not seeing?” James asked in exasperation.

“Life! Today you’re enjoying life, really living it!” Jack said fervently, the bangles on his sash jingling as he grasped each of James’s upper arms. “Not only existing with that prim and proper stick up your ass every single blasted hour of the day.”

“Stick up my—” James cut himself off before he finished the repetition he seemed to forever be speaking around this man. But for once, instead of being angry, he just felt… “Jack.”

“I am the one who doesn’t understand,” Jack said, waving a finger in the commodore’s face before stalking away and pacing back and forth at the bottom of the steps leading to the wheel. He gestured as he spoke. “How you can be a Navy man, so obviously a man of the sea, so enamored of her, yet you don’t let yourself enjoy her. You lock yourself up in that uniform and that way of thinking and that cage of a house, barely able to breathe the fresh air or accept the sun on your skin. You rarely even step foot onboard a ship now, Commodore.”

James stood there, stunned, as Jack continued.

“She’s already a part of you, I’ve seen it today. How you move with her and breathe her in. How can you not sleep in her arms, accept her kiss, sink into her depths and let her seep into your soul?”

“Jack…” James’s brow rose higher and higher as Jack waxed poetic—frankly good poetry at that. James knew all those things about the lady sea, yet he also knew it was his lot in life to ride her swells, but never really know her.

Jack considered the man in front of him seriously. “I want you to feel those things, James, things that will let you find your place in this world, a place you will always be welcome. She is that place. The sea, she will never turn you away.”

“Jack,” James said more forcefully, finally getting the pirate’s attention. Jack stopped in his tracks and peered at James, who rubbed a hand over his face and turned to walk along the railing. “I cannot allow myself to be drawn as by a siren’s song to the sea. I have responsibilities on shore that cannot be long ignored.”

Jack blinked a few times, and then burst into motion, following along behind James with that swaying walk. “I know what your problem is, James,” Jack announced.

James sighed and stopped. “Do tell, Jack,” he said wearily.

“Right you are,” Jack said, leaning close for a bit before straightening. “You think that in that uniform, you’re perfect, you see. And it just isn’t true.”

James spluttered. “That’s preposterous!”

“Is it really?” Jack posed. “Every button and tie in place, every curl of the wig. Rigid posture, proper language, observed procedures, regimented lives. Such is the way of His Royal Majesty’s Navy.” The pirate’s voice clearly revealed his pity and sadness over such a fate.

Jack actually made sense, and that bothered the commodore more than anything yet. “It’s… the way it is,” James said quietly. “It is not my place to bring about change in the world.”

“So bring about change in yourself,” Jack suggested casually as he turned to lean back against the railing, stretching out his arms until his fingers brushed James’s elbow. “At least with yourself—and me, of course—be honest.”

“Be honest,” James said before huffing. He’d done it again. “About what?”

“About what affects you personally. Not what affects the Navy, or Port Royal, or the pubs, or the stray cats. You and only you, luv,” Jack said, his voice turned serious. “About your hopes and your disappointments. About your wants and your desires. About your strengths and your flaws.”

“I should hope I don’t have any flaws,” James said, furrows of worry appearing.

“Everyone has flaws,” Jack answered lightly.

“Weaknesses, perhaps. But flaws?”

“Look at myself, then. I have more than my fair share,” Jack pointed out.

James smiled, a smile without the shadow that normally kept it restrained. “Truer words…”

“We all have flaws,” Jack drawled, “and mine is being wicked.”

James couldn’t hide the soft snort or the smile that quirked on his lips.

Jack waved him off. “Honesty,” he said in an almost sing-song voice.

Sighing, James turned to look out at the sea. “If I must,” he muttered as he thought about it. “My flaw is…”

Jack leaned in expectantly.

“My flaw is a frightening tendency to fraternize with pirates.”

Jack burst out laughing, beating on the rail with one fist. “You know, you’re quite right,” he agreed. “I’ve seen it!”

James rolled his eyes, which just inspired more mirth in Jack.

“You see, James, you do understand,” Jack exclaimed with a wide grin.

A companionable silence wrapped around them for quite some time after Jack’s crow. James spent the time looking out over the rolling waves to the setting sun and red sky as the _Black Pearl_ sailed back into port. He considered the man beside him as well, how he had dragged James out onto the water in a bid to ease his spirit. Spirit James had not realized was so quashed.

“Thank you, Jack. It was a fine day. A fine day, indeed.”

The pirate’s smile was remarkably controlled, but nothing could hide the pleased shine in his eyes.


	3. A Fine Thing

“Jack!”

The man addressed turned from the bar with a questioning look. “William, good to see you, lad. Have some rum.”

“Jack, I’ve got to talk to you,” Will said in a hushed voice, looking around the Tortuga tavern.

Jack frowned. “What’s wrong? Something with Elizabeth?”

“No, Jack, come on, we can’t talk here. Let’s go to the _Pearl_ ,” Will insisted.

Now Jack looked distinctly concerned. With narrowed eyes he threw back the rest of his rum and chipped a coin at the bartender. “Let’s go then.”

As soon as they stepped foot on the ship, Jack turned to Will. “Now what’s so important that I had to leave a perfectly—”

“Jack, the _Victory_ has been destroyed,” Will said urgently. Jack looked at him blankly, so Will continued. “The new British First Rate. It arrived at Port Royal last month and was on its christening sail when it was attacked.”

The captain started to frown. “By whom?”

“Pirates!” Will said impatiently. “Who else? A group of three ships together. The _Victory_ shot down two of them, but was too damaged to finish the third. After it was boarded and pillaged, the pirates sank her within sight of the Port Royal harbor.”

“I imagine the commodore was quite put out,” Jack commented, brow still furrowed.

“I imagine he was, considering he was on the _Victory_ ,” Will said sharply.

Jack froze and his breath caught. “Is… is he…?”

Will studied him suspiciously for a moment. “As far as we know, he’s alive. Some the survivors of the _Victory_ reported he was taken captive along with the other officers. That was a week ago, and we’ve received no ransom, no explanation.”

“William,” Jack said hoarsely, swallowing hard. “They’re most likely dead.” He flinched as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

“Jack. Elizabeth thought you would want to help find the commodore, being as how the two of you seem to have struck a truce and become unlikely friends,” Will said.

Jack was silent for a long moment before nodding. “Quite right.” He turned away sharply and started yelling for the crew to make themselves useful. He ordered them to get the ship underway and returned to Will.

“You’d best be off, William. I’ll do my best to bring back the esteemed commodore,” Jack said, all business.

“I’m coming with you, Jack. Elizabeth wanted to be here, but her father threatened to tie her to a dining room chair to keep her there. So she sent me,” Will said.

Jack nodded. “Very well. Tell me where that ship was last sighted.” The pirate’s eyes glinted dangerously.

Will guided them to just outside Port Royal, then to the subsequent sighting locations. The _Black Pearl_ stopped off a seaside village as Jack studied a hand-drawn map.

“Now… where would I go?” Jack murmured. He drew his finger along the sea lines until it stopped at a small outcropping off a larger island. He tapped his finger on that spot. Then he straightened.

“Gibbs!” the pirate called out. “Make for Sterett Cove!”

“Sterett Cove, Sterett Cove, burnt to the ground, Sterett Cove,” the parrot squawked.

“Burnt to the ground?” Will asked.

“By Barbossa,” Gibbs said, stopping next to them. “One of his first acts as Captain. No one’s been there since, Jack.”

“Exactly,” the captain answered. He folded his arms and looked out over the sea with calculating eyes.

“Guide me true, my beloved lady,” Jack murmured to the sea.

==

Sterett Cove was indeed a bleak and unwelcoming place with an ashy beach, stunted, dead trees and little vegetation. The cliffs rose high, sheltering what should have been a lush bolt hole but for the devastation wreaked upon it by Barbossa.

James looked out from under the meager shelter where he was bound alongside Gillette and Groves. They sprawled on the dirt, their wrists tightly fastened to a pole driven into the ground. All they could do was watch the pirates carouse.

Closing his eyes and laying his head against the pole, James tried to rest. At least he was moderately comfortable, having been stripped of his hat, wig and jacket, all of which now adorned various pirates who danced about a roaring fire.

Gillette stirred next to him, pained by a leg injury. “How are you doing, Thomas?” James asked.

The lieutenant snorted. “I’d be better in a feather bed, James.” The three men, by James’s insistence, had given up on titles after their first few days of captivity.

“We’d all be better off in a feather bed. Preferably a warmed feather bed,” George Groves muttered.

James snorted while Thomas laughed. They’d made a pact to keep their spirits up. They weren’t dead after all. Yet. The commodore looked out over the dark beach to the black sea. Although he wouldn’t admit it, he knew what, who, he was waiting for. As much as he doubted it would happen, in its own twisted logic, it did make sense.

Elizabeth would have seen the battle and heard the recount of the survivors. Unable to affect a rescue on her own, she would send beloved husband William off to find dear friend Captain Jack Sparrow, and the young man would convince the pirate— _privateer_ , he corrected with a roll of his eyes—that he should find and rescue the poor commodore and return him hale and healthy to Port Royal.

This was assuming Elizabeth cared as much as she seemed to; and this was assuming William cared enough to do as Elizabeth demanded.

This was assuming Jack cared at least a little bit about the man who was coming to think of him as a friend. Possibly a good friend. A fine man.

James sighed and closed his eyes. He spent quite a bit of time each evening trying to decide what he really thought about him. It was hard to separate his feelings about Captain Jack Sparrow the pirate and Jack the friend.

Reopening his eyes, James knew it would be a long night, another in a string of them, where he, Thomas, and George alternately slept and told tales to keep each other from losing hope.

Little did he know there were two men not far away trying to do the same thing.

==

“What if they’re dead, Jack?”

The pirate looked up from the table where he was making a battle plan that would work for them to invade Sterett Cove. “Think positive, Will,” Jack said shortly.

“You seem out of sorts, Jack. I would have thought this challenge would interest you,” Will said.

Jack stared down at the list, his thumb moving over it. “Interest me. Yes. It interests me.” He looked up at Will and a cheering look abruptly appeared on his face. “Fear not, William, we shall rescue the dashing commodore and return him to the adoring masses of Port Royal.”

“Did you know he’s engaged to marry?”

The captain’s hand jerked and knocked over the ink well, and Jack scrambled to right it before too much ink spilled.

“Marry?” Jack asked, astounded.

“Well, I believe so. Elizabeth said he’d escorted a woman to a social event, and the woman told her later that she’d finally succeeded in capturing Commodore Norrington, where none of the other ladies had,” Will explained.

Jack tipped his head to one side. He didn’t look at all happy.

“Jack? You’re acting awfully odd,” Will said.

“Ah… just thinking, William. Thinking about our course of action. Mustn’t get the commodore killed if we’re to return him to his future blushing bride.” There was an odd bite to Jack’s voice.

Will nodded. “All right. I just hope he’s not dead already.”

Jack turned his back on Will and walked to the long, wide windows that looked out at the sea. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes. “As do I,” he murmured. “As do I.”

==

The next morning the same sun shone on the _Black Pearl_ and Sterett Cove, though they might as well have been across the world from each other.

“They’re not going to have to kill us,” George groaned. “We’re going to roast instead.”

James kept plodding along, helping pull the heavy driftwood they’d found down the beach. A pirate stood watch over them from a perch above, pistol ready. Not that there was anywhere to go. James squinted and looked down the beach to check on Thomas, who had been left with his bum leg to mend sail. The lieutenant appeared to be fine.

“Think of it as good exercise, George,” James said distractedly as he studied as much of the camp as he could.

“James, I haven’t exercised this much since I was a midshipman,” George complained.

James looked back at the other sweat-soaked man. Both their uniforms were an absolute mess, torn and muddied and bloodied, their shirts partway unbuttoned. James’s jacket was gone altogether, having been appropriated by one of their captors. While George’s blond hair was close cut, James’s dark hair had curled when first loosed to the wet, salty air, and had stayed that way, hanging around his face.

The commodore cracked a smile. “That explains the extra about your middle then.”

George spluttered and kicked at James’s rear end as they both laughed and pulled the wood along. James was still smiling when they got back to Thomas.

“What are you two laughing about?” Thomas asked crossly.

“James said I’m fat!” George said in an offended voice.

Thomas tipped his head to one side. “I wouldn’t say fat. I’d say a little extra about the middle.”

James collapsed into the sand laughing, not caring that they were drawing attention from the few sober pirates about. George sat down hard next to Thomas with his face set petulantly. The commodore snorted at seeing that face and started laughing all over again.

Thomas chuckled. “Well, James, I must say it’s wonderful to see you like this, even if it is in such terrible circumstances.”

“Like what?” James asked, still smiling from where he lolled in the sand.

“Like this,” Thomas gestured between the three of them. “Not so stuck up.”

Those exact words coming from another man’s mouth echoed in James’s mind. Jack. His face settled into a small, wistful smile. “We are not all so lucky to live in such a manner,” he said, echoing himself.

“Why not?” George asked. “Just because you’re a commodore doesn’t mean you can’t live your life instead of just existing in it.”

The parallels sent a jolt of awareness through James. “Live my life,” he murmured.

“James. We won’t always have the choice,” Thomas said gently. “Things like this.” He gestured around them. “They happen, and the choice is taken out of our hands. Better to have made them and had joy of them.”

The commodore sat up and looked around them. The pirates seemed to be ignoring them for now. He looked back at the two lieutenants sitting near him. “What choices have you made?” he asked, curious.

When Thomas and George immediately glanced to each other, James’s eyes widened. Thomas blushed, even despite his high color from the sun. George looked uncomfortable.

“I see,” James said, a little shell-shocked before he shook himself. “A fine choice, I must say.”

Both men looked at the commodore. “A fine choice,” George echoed.

James nodded and smiled faintly. “Are you happy?” he asked them.

Both men smiled, and Thomas patted George’s knee discreetly.

James huffed in surprise. “Well. I suppose I’ll have to think more carefully about my choices.”

“I thought maybe you had a few months ago,” George said.

James raised an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”

“There was a day you didn’t come to the fort, and you weren’t at home, either,” George said. “We thought about going looking for you, but when we asked after you at the Governor’s house, Mrs. Turner said you were off visiting a friend.”

James remembered. It was the day he’d spent on the _Black Pearl_. It seemed ages ago, that single stolen day, which was now a treasured memory.

“When you came back the next day in better spirits than we’d seen you in such a long time, we’d hoped…” Thomas said.

“We’d hoped you’d found someone,” George finished.

James blinked at them, inwardly shocked that he wasn’t more surprised when he connected their thoughts with his own about that day. He supposed he could see why they would think that.

He had stored several images away that day, a large number of them featuring Jack. Jack mending sail and giving orders to the crew. Jack gnawing on jerky and talking about the _Black Pearl_ with his wild gesticulations. Jack grinning as they crossed swords. Jack leaning calmly on the rail with the wind blowing through his hair, sending the trinkets braided therein to tinkling.

James shook his head slowly. “Just a good day with a friend,” he murmured.

“That, too, is a fine thing,” Thomas allowed.

James considered the blue sky above. “A fine thing, indeed,” he said softly.

George and Thomas spoke quietly to one another as James let his mind wander right back to Jack. He wondered if the _Black Pearl_ was on the sea today, riding the cresting waves under the hot sun. She was a gorgeous ship; were James a pirate, he would certainly covet her. Looking above, he could almost see her sailing upon the blue sky in the shape of a white cloud.

Her captain would be at the helm, the indomitable Captain Jack Sparrow, a man who had seemed to take it upon himself to transform James into a better man. James smiled softly. A fine man. A pirate reforming a commodore. No one would ever believe it.

He happened to turn his head toward the cliffs, his eyes somewhat unfocused, but movement caught his attention. James blinked several times when he saw men rappelling down the cliff. He frowned and closed his eyes, then reopened them. Yes. Men rappelling down the cliffs.

He sat up in a rush, but made himself still right away.

“James?” Thomas asked with a frown.

“Do not, and I mean absolutely do not turn around,” James said quietly. “I think a rescue is in progress.” He curled his hand into a fist in the sand.

George’s eyes widened and he stayed resolutely face forward. “Who is it?”

James shook his head slowly until he saw a parrot fly over the camp, and he started to smile. “Pirates,” he said, hardly able to believe it was true. He’d hoped…

“Pirates?” Thomas hissed.

James looked at the lieutenants apologetically while his smile continued to grow. “I apologize. _Privateers_ ,” he corrected himself.

Both men stared at him blankly. James, Commodore Norrington, had a broad, silly smile on his face. About privateers.

“Do you think he’s sun sick?” Thomas whispered.

“Could be,” George said sadly. “What a shame.”

“Funny. Very funny. Now get up so we can get more driftwood. We’re going that way,” James said, pointing down the beach that would lead them past the camp.

“That way? It would take us right toward…” Thomas stopped as he looked at James’s lifted eyebrow. “Right you are, James. Let’s go that way.”

They were in front of the camp when a pirate raised the alarm and all hell broke loose.

James pushed George and Thomas behind him, urging them along. “George, get Thomas around the bend to safety,” he ordered before taking off toward the nearest pirate.

“James! _James!_ ” Thomas called after him as George helped him along. “George, he’s going to get himself killed!”

George glanced over his shoulder to see James neatly trip a pirate and take his sword, thumping him atop the head with the hilt and leaving the man senseless on the ground. “He’s got a sword, he’s fine,” he said. “Let’s go. I’m not losing you now.”

James ran into the shambles of a camp, fighting as he went along. The real pirates swarmed all over, trying to protect themselves and their booty while the rescuing privateers focused on securing the area. He had to stop to fight one, then two pirates at once, and James growled as he took them all down fairly quickly. He was more than annoyed to have been held captive for so long, so he put that aggression to good use.

The fray closed about him and he had to fight closer and dirtier to avoid finding himself at the end of a sword. James dispatched a pirate by kicking him into the cooking fire, and another by slashing his arm badly enough the man couldn’t hold his sword.

James was trying to fight his way through to a particular tent, where he knew the pirates kept their black powder and firearms. He heard pistol shot and hoped it was the privateers. But then he saw one of the bastards who’d dragged him here lift a pistol to shoot at someone across the camp, and James charged him with an angry yell, bowling him over just in time to send the bullet awry.

He had to grapple with the bigger man to get the pistol, and when the pirate tried to hit him, James smacked him across the face with the butt, knocking him unconscious. “Wish I could do that to all you bastards,” James muttered as he grabbed the pistol and the sword and climbed up to join the fighting again.

Meanwhile, Will found George and Thomas on the beach.

“Where’s the commodore?” Will asked.

“He went to fight,” Thomas said, pointing back to the camp.

“Keep going, you two. The _Pearl_ is aways further around the bend, and there’s a longboat waiting. The men there will help you.” Will took off to rejoin the fight.

“Was that Miss Swann’s husband?” George asked.

“That’s Mrs. Turner’s husband,” Thomas corrected.

“Mrs. Turner who was Miss Swann who married Mr. Turner instead of James?” George asked, just to be clear.

“Yes, exactly.”

“And now Mr. Turner is here to rescue us,”

“Apparently.”

“Quite a woman, Miss Swann, I mean, Mrs. Turner, to send her current husband after her ex-fiancée,” George said, just to be clear.

“Not just her current husband. If Mr. Turner is here, Captain Jack Sparrow isn’t far behind.”

George and Thomas stopped to look at one another for a long moment, remembering the silly grin on James’s face. Then they shook their heads and spoke in concert.

“Nah,” George said.

“Preposterous,” Thomas agreed.

“Absurd,” George said.

“Unbelievable,” Thomas agreed.

“Laughable,” George said.

“Could never happen,” Thomas agreed.

They looked at one another significantly before starting to hobble along the beach once more.

==

James kicked another pirate out of the way and careened into another man, and when he flung himself around, his sword was blocked—by one Mr. William Turner.

“Commodore! We’ve come to rescue you!” Will exclaimed.

“So I see, Mr. Turner.” James paused to slash out and disarm a pirate creeping up at Will’s side, then shoved the pirate back hard enough that he stumbled and smacked the back of his skull against a dead tree truck. The man slid to the ground, knocked clean out.

“Come on, the _Pearl_ is this way,” Will said, taking James’s arm.

James didn’t move. “Where’s Jack?” he asked.

Will shrugged and waved out at the fight going on around them. “He’s here somewhere, he’ll meet us back at the _Pearl_ along with everyone else.”

James paused for only as long as it took to draw a breath. “Go. Go and tell the rest of the crew to pull out and make for the _Black Pearl_. I’ll find Jack.”

Will met his eyes and saw something there that surprised him. “All right, Commodore. Be careful.”

Will took off once again into the dying fight while James ran toward the back of the camp. He had to fight a few more straggling pirates along the way. Then he turned a rough corner to see a vicious fight between four men—three on one.

The one dispatched two fairly well, but the third got around on him, and having his prey backed up against the cliff, the pirate slashed his sword down and knocked the similar weapon out of the one’s hand. Jack’s hand.

The pirate snarled evilly and raised his sword to kill Jack as the black-haired pirate-turned-privateer faced him, obviously knowing he had nowhere to go.

Then the attacking pirate gulped and scowled and looked down in disbelief at the sword point protruding from his chest. With a gurgle he fell to his knees and collapsed, leaving Jack and James staring at one another.

Slowly, Jack smiled. “James.”

James tipped his head to one side. In an ironic twist, he said, “Jack. It’s about time you got here.”

Jack stared at him for a moment before suddenly lurching back to life. “Oh, you know, places to see, people to do and all that. Decided to have a bit of a stopover at lovely Sterett Cove, and what do I find? A handsome commodore.”

James raised an eyebrow and unfurled the smile he couldn’t hold back any longer. “A handsome commodore? I must protest. You’ve found just James.”

Jack grinned. “Just James, is it?” He walked toward James and stopped not even an arm’s length away. “Tis a fine thing. While I wouldn’t have minded rescuing a commodore, I much prefer rescuing my James.”

“Your James?”

“My Jamie?” Jack tried innocently.

James lifted his sword and gestured with it significantly.

“Ah yes, I do apologize. The lovely lady’s Jamie,” Jack said, something sharp hidden in his voice.

“What?” James asked in confusion, his sword lowering.

“Your lovely soon-to-be-blushing bride’s Jamie,” Jack clarified, tones even further clipped.

“Jack. What on God’s earth are you speaking of?”

“Your fiancée, James.”

“Fiancée?” James’s voice was horrified.

“Yes, fiancée,” Jack huffed. “I’ve heard all about it from William.”

“Jack, I don’t have a fiancée.”

“Well now, according to the lovely Mrs. Turner—”

“I could really care less about what Elizabeth said. I do not have a fiancée,” James insisted. And he didn’t want Jack to think he did, though he didn’t care to examine his reasoning behind that too carefully. At this time. Currently.

Jack looked at James speculatively. “No fiancée,” he mused.

James shook his head.

“No woman waiting for you at home?”

James narrowed his eyes, but shook his head again.

“So you’re mine for the duration!” Jack announced, a pleased smirk back on his face. “The _Pearl_ awaits, dear Commodore, with rum to celebrate your arrival,” he said as he flounced by.

Amazed yet again at Jack’s mercurial moods, the commodore watched him as he walked by. “James.”

Jack stopped and looked over his shoulder. “What was that?” he asked, surprised.

“James.”

Turning around, Jack wandered back to James’s side. “Just James?”

James’s smile moderated into something gentler. “Yes.”

Jack studied him before deciding what to say. “It’s about time you got here.”

James chuckled. “Oh, you know, places to see, people to do and all that. Decided to have a bit of a stopover at lovely Sterett Cove, and what do I find? A handsome pirate captain.”

“That’s—”

“ _Privateer_. Yes, I know,” James said.

“And don’t you forget it,” Jack said as he slinked through the tents, leading them out to the far side of the camp.

“Not hardly,” James said under his breath. It was difficult to forget something you thought about several hours of the day.


	4. A Fine Line

“Eat, drink, and drink some more!” Jack warbled in his lackadaisical manner as he wandered about on the deck, carousing with the crew in the warm, misting rain close to sunset.

James watched from where he sprawled next to Thomas and George on some sacks of meal, eating bread and fresh fruit. Now that the _Black Pearl_ was at sea, moving smoothly on the waves, Jack walked straight and true with none of his laughable prance.

It was the rolling of the sea, James realized. Jack’s gait was so natural upon the pitch of the water that upon land it manifested in the bob and strut of Jack’s body. Now that it was clear that the flounce and weave weren’t just affectations (or at least not total affectations), James became more entranced, making note of how with the flip of a wrist or a twist of the hips Jack kept his perfect, graceful balance as the ship tossed upon the unpredictable blue sea.

“James?”

The commodore jerked slightly and glanced over to Thomas’s knowing eyes.

“Did you hear a word we said, James?”

James shook his head, trying to appear casual though he knew he’d been well and truly caught out.

“These pirates are quite—”

“ _Privateers_ ,” James corrected absently before taking another bite from his apple.

George smiled slightly, obviously trying to hold back a full grin. “Privateers, of course. They’re an interesting crew, aren’t they?”

James turned his chin to watch Jack trying to get Will to take a drink of rum. When the young man kept refusing, James had to chuckle as Jack redoubled his efforts. “Interesting,” James mused. “Such a broad connotation for such a multifaceted, motley bunch.”

“I take exception to that,” Jack announced as he stopped a few feet away.

James’s lips quirked slightly. “I imagine you do,” he agreed mildly.

Jack turned up his nose. “I’ll have you know it takes quite a bit of work to maintain this bit of fantastic that is myself.”

Thomas snorted and coughed to cover his laugh, but George was not so successful. James raised an eyebrow and looked Jack up and down as the pirate—yes, _pirate_ —sniffed in the two Navy men’s direction.

“Jack, can you truly tell me those clothes aren’t the same as you wore the first time we met on the docks in Port Royal?”

“Of course they aren’t the same clothes,” Jack said, reeling backward in outrage. “I will have you know—” He stopped speaking as he looked down at himself and raised a finger indicating for them to wait.

The faded red headscarf was unmistakable, as were the beads threaded throughout his black hair that jingled with each step. His salt-stained cotton shirt hung open at the neck and revealed a vee of surprisingly muscled chest. The blue waistcoat had to be the same; buttons were missing from the same spots. The striped mess of a linen sash wrapped about his waist to cushion the wide brown belt that normally carried a sword and sheath. The brown leather pants clearly showed worn creases where they tucked into sturdy but scuffed black boots.

Jack frowned deeply and looked up at James. “How did you know that?” he asked suspiciously.

Thomas and George broke up laughing again as James just raised both brows and gave Jack a smug smile. Apparently Jack had not noticed the commodore studying him as far back as then. Granted, at the time it was to assess a threat. But the details still stuck in his mind.

“I’ll have you know I change my clothes quite often,” Jack stated, propping one fist on his hip.

“I thought perhaps you took a swim to wash away the sweat,” James said innocently.

“Now see here, Commodore—” Jack cut himself off with a sneer and a humph, sending Thomas and George into gales of laughter.

Jack shoved a bottle into James’s face. “Here, you, if you’re going to disparage me, at least be decently half-drunk and do it with panache.”

James finally grinned; he took the bottle, pulled the cork, and took a healthy swig. It was an achievement, he knew, to one up Jack like this. The pirate’s wily and nimble mind often allowed him to outtalk anyone.

“There now,” Jack said as he met James’s sparkling, merry eyes. “There’s my Jamie.”

The bedamned nickname. James snorted as Thomas and George looked back and forth between the captain and the commodore.

Will chose that moment to stumble upon their little cadre, obviously having imbibed from a finally accepted tankard. “Why are you two staring at Jack and the commodore?”

Thomas blinked and opened his mouth, but nothing came out before Jack piped, “The commodore here fancies that I wear these same duds upon my person at all times,” he accused, pointing a wagging finger at James.

Will looked confused. “But you do.”

Thomas and George broke into laughter once again, and even James chuckled at the astounded look on Jack’s face.

It was priceless, James admitted, seeing the fanciful flibbertigibbet speechless, even for just this short moment.

“I see I shall have to prove myself all over again,” Jack muttered. “Come along, Commodore, and I will show you my varied collection of apparel. After all, one cannot go to Singapore in such a poor jacket as I wear to invade the likes of Sterett Cove.”

“And Isla de Muerta. And Tortuga. And Port Royal…” James started ticking off on one hand.

Jack rolled his eyes expressively. He reached down and grabbed James’s arm, physically hauling him up and towing him toward the captain’s quarters. The two lieutenants watched in amusement from where they sat in the shelter of the stairs until the doors shut James and Jack firmly inside. They glanced at each other as Will wandered off.

“Do you think James has any idea?” Thomas asked as he leaned back into George’s arm.

“Any idea that he’s taken more than a passing fancy in a certain pirate?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Me, either.”

“Think the pirate knows?” George asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Thomas huffed. “ _Pi-_ rate!”

Over in the cabin: “Make yourself at home, James. Mi casa es su casa,” Jack said with a flowery bow.

James glanced around as he moved to sit at the table. The room hadn’t changed from the quick glance he’d given it on his tour of the _Black Pearl_ a few months before. Jack walked over to a recessed cabinet and pulled out two more squat bottles.

“There, you see?”

The commodore realized he’d been staring at Jack again, watching how he moved rather than his body itself. “See what?” James managed to ask.

Jack pointed, and James tracked in that direction to see a chest and wardrobe bulging with colorful fabrics and several pieces of broken-in leather.

“I see I shall have to correct myself in front of the others tomorrow,” James said with a wry smile. “You must admit, however…” He nodded to Jack’s current raiment.

“I suppose,” Jack said, bringing two glasses and the bottles to the table before stepping surefooted to the trunk despite the stronger shift of the ship’s balance. James glanced to the windows to see the surf splattering on the glass. Now that he thought to listen, he could hear the rain falling more steadily outside.

The captain poured the rum and shifted one glass toward James before he joined the commodore at the table.

“Where did you find all that?” James said, looking over the wide range of colors and fabrics that spilled out of the wardrobe.

“Here and there, thither and yon,” Jack said, waving one hand expansively. “I see many a port, you know, James. Both here and in far foreign lands.”

“Here and there in sunken coffers, thither and yon from merchantmen stores?” James asked with narrowed eyes.

“ _Privateer_ ,” Jack reminded him, toasting him with his rum.

“ _Pirate_ ,” James answered significantly, earning a wide smile from the man sitting across from him.

“Always with the lovely compliments, aren’t you, James?” Jack said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. There’s a fine line between pirate and privateer, Jack,” James said quietly. “I think we both know how closely you walk it.”

Jack didn’t answer right away. He held his rum in hand and looked across the table at James, obviously considering his words carefully. “There’s always a reason for a man to choose which side of the line to stand on, James,” Jack said intently.

James sat back, looking over the pirate who sat a matter of feet away. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Jack so still and serious about anything, even when pleading his cause to go after Barbossa. “Like the line between friends and enemies,” the commodore said.

“Aye. Like the line between comrades and confidantes,” Jack confirmed. He smiled a bit. “Life is full of lines, as it were.”

“Choices,” James murmured, wondering when Jack had become such a philosopher.

“Full of choices,” Jack agreed. “Look at us, for example.”

James chuckled. “Indeed. What a mishmash of choices led us to this moment.”

Jack tutted. “Mishmash,” he huffed. “First, we were enemies. A pirate and a commodore, with no other relationship than your authority and the brand on my arm. Then we were allies in the fight against Barbossa.”

“Uneasy allies, as I still intended to clap you in irons the first possible moment,” James said wryly.

“I’d have been disappointed if you hadn’t tried, you know,” Jack said with a small grin. “Even if it did get me within spitting distance of the gibbet.”

James winced. “Jack, I’m sorr—”

“Nay, James, none of that. ’Twas who we were then, and above all else, to thine own self be true,” Jack said with a twinkle in his eye.

The commodore raised an eyebrow in appreciation of Jack’s literary comment. “Haven’t we had this conversation?” he pointed out. “That not all of us are so lucky as you?”

Jack sniffed and waved a hand. “And once I escaped the noose—”

“With help.”

“Not saying it wasn’t,” Jack said defensively. “After I escaped, the lines changed again. You were the hunter, and I was the dashing prey.”

“Until you weaseled your way back into Port Royal to get that letter of marque Elizabeth finagled out of her father,” James said crossly.

“Come now, James, surely you can see the good that’s come of it,” Jack wheedled, pouring their glasses full again.

James sighed. How he had come to like this crazy man so well he just didn’t know. “I suppose so,” the commodore answered.

“So then we were allies again, albeit contentious ones,” Jack said with a smile.

“Lord,” James muttered, throwing back the rum.

“And then the lines changed again.”

“Actually, then you scuffed away the lines and redrew them,” James corrected, remembering how Jack insinuated himself into his life with just two visits.

“And what’s wrong with that?” Jack posed.

“You can’t just change the lines arbitrarily.”

“Ah, but I did, James, I did.”

James stared at Jack speculatively, knowing full well Jack was right. He considered how his own views and opinions had changed since meeting Captain Jack Sparrow; it seemed Jack mused about something similarly engrossing. They were both so lost in thought that they missed noticing the growing storm until Gibbs came and banged on the door.

“Jack, the rain’s gotten worse, and we think a squall’s snuck up on us!”

The captain glanced to James before setting the bottle down, grabbing his hat, and making for the main deck. The commodore was close behind.

The night’s advance had hidden the darkening clouds, and now the water tossed as the wind whipped at it. The crew scurried to batten down the _Black Pearl_ , and James joined Jack up at the wheel. They both peered into the swiftly approaching storm.

“Get those sails down before we blow over!” Jack yelled.

“Where did it come from?” James asked loudly. The night was black around them; the storm even blocked out the full moon.

“I’ve no idea. The skies were clear,” Jack answered. They were now both soaked by the pounding rain and fierce wind. “James, help Will there.” He nodded to where the young man, along with Gibbs, struggled with several ropes to help bring down the main sail.

The commodore took off down the stairs, clutching at the railing as he nearly went sliding. Moving again, he saw George helping Thomas into the captain’s quarters and nodded in approval as he took two ropes from Will and hauled down on them.

But the more they fought, the more the ropes knotted. “We have to cut it down,” Will yelled over the worsening storm.

Gibbs nodded and looked around, but the rest of the crew was far too busy keeping the ship afloat. He turned to look at Will and James. “There’s no one to climb up there!”

Swearing, James reached out and pulled the sharp dagger from Gibbs’s belt. He knew what had to be done. “Hang onto those ropes,” he ordered them. Then he turned and struggled to make his way across the pitching deck to the mast and rigging. In the blowing rain, he could see the clouds rode so low that they shrouded the tops of the sails. He stuck the knife between his teeth and started climbing as fast as he could.

The storm enveloped the _Black Pearl_ , tossing her on the sea’s furious waves as the crew tried to keep the ship sailing against the tide. Jack hung onto _Pearl_ ’s wheel as long as he could before the worsening storm knocked him away. He tumbled down the stairs and slid across the deck, only stopped when Gibbs reached out to break his momentum. The captain got to his feet and looked around, seeing his first mate and Will both hanging on the ropes, trying to keep control of the huge sail.

“Where’s James?” Jack called out over the storm.

Will raised his arm and pointed up toward the mast. Jack’s chin lifted and his eyes widened as they tracked up the mast to see James climbing the rigging in the full wind.

“Jamie!” Jack yelled. “What are you doing?”

Gibbs grabbed the captain’s arm as the rain whipped them both. “The ropes are caught, we have to cut down the sail!”

Jack’s face was still turned upward, clearly showing disbelief and no small amount of fear. Will and Gibbs looked from the captain to each other and back to Jack.

Hands curled tightly around the hempen ropes, James spared a prayer of thanks that he was on the _Black Pearl_ and not one of his own ships—they used waxed ropes, and he surely would have been knocked from the rigging thrice by now. He kept moving until he reached the crow’s nest and threw his leg over the wooden railing to take advantage of its tiny measure of protection.

Reaching up, James had to stretch to reach the huge knot of ropes that kept the sail up. Each buffet of wind tried to toss him from his dangerous perch, and James prayed the entire time, wanting to see the deck again, wanting to see calm seas again. He wanted to see Jack again, curse that pirate who kept changing all the lines between them. He kept sawing with the dagger.

The three men on the deck hung onto the ropes while peering up into the darkness. It was impossible to see James, but still they tried. Then without warning, the ropes went slack, sending all three men rolling as the main sail came crashing down.

Gibbs hit the meal sacks while Jack rolled against the stairs. But Will went skidding farther on the wet, slippery deck, right past Jack’s grasping hand, and through the spindles of the stair railing. He caught himself with one arm; it was all that kept him from going overboard.

Partway down the rigging, James heard Jack yell Will’s name. The commodore peered down through the geyser of rain that splashed from the waves up against the _Black Pearl_ ’s side. He could see the younger man clinging to the railing, trying to find some purchase.

Then a powerful wave hit Will and swept him into the sea.

Jack swore and pulled off his belt, throwing it to the side before rushing to the railing.

“No, Jack, no!” Gibbs yelled, catching him by the arm. “You’ll never get the depth to pull him up by jumping from here! The waves are too much!”

James watched as a barrel hit Will and knocked him back under water. He spared one more prayer as he jammed the knife into the mast and clambered over the crow’s nest railing while forcing himself to pant unnaturally. If Will were killed, Elizabeth would be devastated. James couldn’t let that happen.

The pirate atop the stairs stared into water, making out the sight of Will surfacing and splashing blindly. “William!” Jack wiped the rain from his face and looked to both sides of where they stood. He rushed for the pool of rope that had crashed to the deck and started to lash it to the mast, then about his waist.

He looked up just in time to see James plummet from high up on the mast down into the churning black water.


	5. Fine and Fair

After the roaring sound of the storm, the quiet churn under the surface was a relief, but also a warning.

James didn’t have much time.

As he cut deep into the sea, he knew he had perhaps—perhaps—a minute of air. Not long. Not long at all to find a man in the whirlpool of dark water. James’s naturally buoyant body was already rising to the surface, and he had to act quickly or his slim chance would be gone.

James pried his eyes open for the bare seconds he could stand against the burning salt just in time to catch himself from ramming his head against the same barrel that held Will down. It seemed the good Lord was with both Will and himself.

Startling in surprise, James lashed back to avoid the iron-wrapped wood, managing to hook a leg on it to pull himself around. He slid an arm under Will’s and kicked for the surface, hoping that the way he was headed was indeed up. By the limp nonresistance of Will’s body, James knew he was unconscious and likely full of water by this point.

Just like he himself would be within seconds as his lungs started to burn and ache and he had to fight against breathing in the salty cold. James couldn’t stop his body’s forced impulse, and his precious last breaths burst out in bubbles, letting the water rush in to fill the void.

Frantic, James kicked harder as he started to flail, swallowing once, then twice to keep from breathing the water in. All it took was one breath and he started to choke…

He broke the surface of the water into the tossing waves. Gasping and coughing, James managed to get two half breaths before a wave crashed over him, pushing him down again. He pulled on Will’s body with all his strength and crested above the bubbles to drag in a deeper, needed breath.

“Jamie!”

Shocked, James flailed and looked around as best he could in the nearly blinding rain. He saw something solid and black in front of him, and he reached out one hand to touch slick wood. The _Black Pearl_.

“Jamie! The rope! _Jamie!_ ”

James dipped under the water for a moment to gather Will closer against him. Then he kicked hard and came back above the water, opening his burning eyes to see the rope nearby. He swam best he could toward it as the waves tossed them both and finally grasped it. He started wrapping it around Will’s body, knotting it tightly and then yanking on it and waving his arm frantically.

Will shifted and was pulled out of his arms; he rose eerily from the water into the dark above. Gasping for breath and bobbing on the water, James swam toward the ship and kept one hand on her side. Feeling his way, he started swimming alongside her, groping with first one hand, then the other, searching for the ropes of rigging he knew cascaded down her sides.

A particularly rough wave knocked him hard against the _Black Pearl_ , and James flopped into the water and held his head in pain, fighting the urge to black out. The splashing and crashing drowned out the creaks of the nearby ship, and the roar of the storm threatened to deafen him. Distantly, he heard his name.

James gasped as he felt himself sinking both in body and in mind, hoping the Lord was of a mind to hear him one more time. He hoped Will was well. He hoped the _Black Pearl_ weathered the storm intact. And damn, he hoped he’d be allowed to see what happened next in his puzzling, frustrating, and fascinating something that might be a relationship with Jack Sparrow.

His eyes shut and he felt himself tossed against the ship’s hull, and it seemed the lady sea cradled him in her arms and soothed him to sleep.

“It’s all right, Jamie. I’ve got you.”

When he opened his stinging eyes again, he was indeed bring rocked, but not by the waves of the swirling sea. His body lay still upon sturdy wood and the warmth of a firm body, and that body’s arms curled around him tightly. James’s eyes dropped closed again. He was so, so tired.

“You’re safe, James. Safe again upon the _Pearl_ and with me,” he heard murmured against his ear. James twitched in reaction and drew a careful breath.

“Jack?”

“Aye, Jamie. I’ve got you.”

James sighed in relief and shifted a hand to touch one of Jack’s arms. “Good,” he murmured as sleep stealthily beckoned.

“You’re a right bedamned fool.”

James smiled slightly. “William?”

“A bit green, but he’ll be staying with us, the young pup will.”

“Elizabeth would have skinned us both,” James murmured, turning his face against wet, clinging fabric that he imagined was Jack’s waistcoat.

“Likely so, I must admit,” Jack said, voice pained. “Was going to jump after him myself.”

“While your diving form is impressive to see, you would not have cut deep enough—”

“Not with that again,” Jack muttered. “Gibbs said the same.”

“Fine man,” James murmured, focusing on breathing. He curled his fingers around Jack’s arm and the pirate squeezed him closer.

“Aye, a fine man. As are you, James.” Jack’s voice was soft and low.

James sighed. “I suppose you will take credit for that.”

Jack chuckled, a warm rumble that shifted his chest under the commodore’s cheek. “Of course I will.”

James tried to pull his eyes open again. Despite the dark, they still hurt.

“Careful now,” the captain cautioned. “Need to flush the salt from your eyes.”

James turned up his nose. “It’s still night.” They apparently sheltered under the stairs, against the same sacks of grain as before.

“Aye. We’ve ridden out the worst of the storm. Just rain and a bit of wind now, and the _Pearl_ is taking us to safety in a nearby cove.”

“Who is at the wheel?”

“Anamaria,” Jack muttered.

James chuckled. “You actually let someone else—and a woman to boot—at the wheel?”

“I let others at the wheel,” Jack said defensively.

A smiled pulled at the commodore’s lips. “Usually only in situations of great duress or distress.”

Jack was long quiet as one of his hands slid to comb through James’s hair, pulling the long, wet strands away from James’s face. It was a most unusual gesture. Finally he spoke. “You’re a fine man, you are, James, though I cursed you colorfully for acting the hero.”

“Only acting?” James asked plaintively. Jack sniffed and James had to laugh and shift on the deck as his legs ached.

“Hurting?” Jack asked, a tinge of worry in his voice.

“No more than to be expected,” James said on a sigh. Jack muttered something under his breath. “What was that?” the commodore asked tiredly.

“Here come your men,” Jack murmured. “Buck up, Commodore. Here are your men to see to you,” he said more loudly as James shifted more to his back to pull his face away from Jack’s chest. Surprisingly, the pirate shifted to help James sit up and lean against the grain sacks rather than himself. The loss of warmth bothered James, and he shivered.

“James!”

The commodore turned his head to see George and Thomas kneeling down at his side opposite Jack.

“What an idiotic thing to do, James,” Thomas exclaimed, drawing a chuckle from the commodore and a sharp glare from Jack.

“Leave me be, Thomas. I’m here, am I not?”

“Be that as it may, you did not make it under your own steam. Captain Sparrow here had to pull you from the drink,” George said.

James’s eyes slowly tracked sideways and up to Jack, who was studiously not looking at him. “Did he, now,” James murmured.

“Had that rope tied right around his waist and jumped. Scared the life out of Gibbs and that woman,” Thomas said. “They almost didn’t catch the other end, he’d gone so abruptly.”

James raised an eyebrow, still looking at Jack, who still wasn’t looking at him. “Indeed,” the commodore said.

“Are you well, James?” George asked.

“Yes, I believe so,” James said, looking back to the Navy men. “And yourselves?”

“Yes. George dragged me into that cabin and wouldn’t let me help,” Thomas said in annoyance.

“And a lot of good you would have done us swept overboard like Turner,” George snapped.

“I’m fine! I would have been able to help!” Thomas argued.

“Thomas. George. Please.” James broke in with an aggrieved sigh.

The two men turned remorseful eyes to the commodore. “Can we get you anything, James?” Thomas asked.

Jack finally joined the conversation. “Some fresh water for his eyes.”

“Right away,” George said, helping Thomas to his feet. Jack and James sat silent until they returned, whereupon the captain took the water and carefully put it to use.

Finally the commodore sighed and murmured, “Thank you.” Though his eyes still streamed, the terrible sting of the salty sea was gone.

Jack handed the flask back to George. “Off with you now, find something dry for the commodore to wear. There’s plenty in the wardrobe in my quarters.”

The two Navy men nodded and took themselves off, leaving Jack and James alone once more.

“You’re quite insane, you know,” James commented.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Pirate,” he mentioned.

“ _Privateer_ ,” James corrected softly.

Jack looked at James as his head leaned to the side. “’Tis a fine line, is it not?”

“Not with you,” James said clearly.

Jack blinked and looked furtively around them. “Well. Don’t be spreading it around, savvy?” he whispered. “I’ve a reputation to maintain.”

James chuckled. “One that will be shattered as word gets around of what you did today.”

“I think not,” Jack said indignantly. “Just you see, James. William and Elizabeth will spread word to the whole of Port Royal about how Commodore Norrington threw himself into the stormy sea to save young Turner so that he might both repay his debt of rescue and return Turner to his lovely young wife. A wife beloved by them both, I might add.”

James groaned deeply. Jack was likely correct. “Pirate,” he muttered, which drew a smile from Jack.

“And again with the compliment,” Jack said with a wink.

Before James could answer George returned. “Thomas has picked some clothing for you, James. Let’s get you to the cabin and changed.”

George and Jack helped James to his feet. Although he felt somewhat unsteady, James was able to get there without help, though they both hovered, Jack somewhat theatrically, James thought. Perhaps the pirate was trying to make him smile. Annoyingly, he succeeded.

“Here you are, James,” Thomas said, pointing at a pile of clothes laid on the long table, along with a rough towel. “We’ll leave you to some privacy.”

After one look, Jack followed, shutting the doors firmly behind them.

James rubbed his face tiredly and looked at the clothing Thomas had chosen. Clean and serviceable black trousers, a deep maroon shirt and matching sash, and a brown coat. Shrugging off his own finally ruined shirt, James took up the towel and started drying off. It took him a bit of time to wriggle out of his waterlogged pants, and they fell to the floor in a sloppy mess.

Pushing them aside with a bare foot, James thankfully pulled on the dry clothes and then sat tiredly in one of the chairs, trying to pull the worst of the snarls from his hair.

Someone knocked at the door, and he called out for them to enter. It was Jack, carrying a tray of food and drink.

“You need something in you besides seawater,” the pirate said knowledgeably. James grunted, perhaps in agreement. He was too exhausted to know. Jack set down the tray in front of him. “Have a bit to eat, James,” he said persuasively.

The commodore looked at the food with clear disinterest, but sighed as if put upon and picked up a dry roll, broke it in half and started chewing. Jack nodded in approval and poured what looked like rum into a cup.

“You won’t be caring for more water, I’m sure,” Jack said, holding out the cup. “And you’ll need the warming as well.”

James wondered dimly about the care Jack seemed to be showing. It was all he could do to grunt again and take up the cup for a small sip, then a larger swallow as it burned all the way down, spreading that warmth just as Jack said it would.

After finishing the roll, a piece of jerky, and two small cups of rum, James sat back in the chair, limp but feeling more like himself. “Thank you, Jack.”

The pirate, now sitting across from him, had his elbows propped on the table in front of him, his long fingers shredding a piece of jerky. “Aye,” he acknowledged, keeping his eyes on James.

“How is Will?”

“Resting,” Jack answered. “Best as he can. Took in quite a bit more of the sea than you, and a larger lump on his head as you never did see this side of a whore’s pretty tit.”

James almost snorted his drink of rum through his nose. He coughed as his eyes watered. “That was… colorful.”

Jack grinned, the gold glinting in the candlelight. “That’s me, is it not?”

“Oh yes,” James agreed drolly. “Colorful. That is indeed you.”

With a happy laugh, Jack clapped his hand on the table. “You see, you know me well.”

James tipped his head to one side. “Not all that well. I would not have predicted your actions these past two days.”

Jack looked hurt. “I thought we were friends, James.”

“Are we? Or are we simply neighbors?”

The captain shifted in his chair. “Friends,” he said decisively. “On our quest to improve ourselves and one another, remember?”

“You seem to have been more successful at ‘improving’ me—at least by your standards—whereas I have had nigh no success in improving you,” James said. It was true. Though he no longer wanted to resist Jack’s whirlwind presence in his life, he had no illusions that he left a mark of his own on the other man.

“Haven’t you?” Jack asked seriously.

“Have I?” James threw right back.

Jack’s face hardened. “How long ago would I have ignored William and Elizabeth’s plea to find and rescue you, Commodore Norrington?”

The formal appellation from Jack’s lips inexplicably hurt. “Not so long,” James said quietly.

“Not so long,” the pirate agreed. “But not so recently that you shouldn’t have known better.”

James flinched. He didn’t give Jack enough credit, he knew, and this brought that affront into stark relief. “Not so recently,” he murmured. The commodore thought back to the days before, on Sterett Cove, when he hoped Jack was on his way.

“I thought of you,” James admitted. “Though I didn’t believe you would come sailing to the rescue as if I were Elizabeth or another fair maiden.”

Jack’s lips twitched. “Perhaps I favor incurring debts upon impressionable commodores rather than wily debutantes.”

James couldn’t help but laugh at Jack’s cheek. “You are an insolent, arrogant ass.”

The pirate shrugged. “I am what I am, James. You have affected me just as well as I have affected you. Perhaps you don’t look closely enough to see it.”

James looked over Jack curiously, but the pirate waved a hand dismissively and smiled. “Ah, don’t strain yourself, James. You’re far too tired, I wager. Come on then, into bed with you.”

James snickered.

Both Jack’s brows flew up in surprise. “Well. Is that my influence at work or the rum talking?”

“Probably both,” James admitted, head bobbing sleepily. It felt like the sea was rocking the _Black Pearl_ again.

Jack peered at him before helping James to his feet and over to the bed. Once the commodore lay down, Jack pulled one of the woolen blankets over his legs.

James sighed and his eyes fluttered shut. He scented the pillow and the fabrics he laid upon; imbued with a smell he felt he should know, a little musky, a little spicy, with a tinge of salt.

It was Jack, of course. It was Jack’s bed. And it smelled of him. James sighed, unaccountably comforted. It didn’t bear thinking why.

“Get some rest, James. We’ll be back in Port Royal in a few days, if the winds cooperate.”

James pried his eyes open to see Jack perched on the edge of the bed watching him. “You look like a drowned rat, Jack. You ought to clean up and change clothes,” James said as he looked the bedraggled pirate over.

Jack looked at him intently for several heartbeats. “You look stunning, Jamie,” he said quietly. “A fine and fair man, in my estimation. I’d not have you change a whit.”

Speechless, James could do nothing but look at the man who stared at him so seriously. Then that twinkle was back, and the twist normally upon Jack’s lips, and the pirate smiled down at where James lay in his bed as if enjoying the sight.

“I won’t be thanking you to lay around lazy the whole day,” Jack said with a wag of his finger.

Still James watched the other man. The warmth that buzzed through him—from the rum?—was a sharp counterpoint to the ache in his chest. He felt completely and utterly swept away. Despite his desire otherwise, his heavy eyelids shut and he could not reopen them.

Perhaps he imagined the soft press of lips against his forehead as he dropped into an exhausted sleep, comforted by the soft shifting he felt as _Black Pearl_ sailed home.

“Aye, Jamie,” Jack whispered. “I’d not have you change a whit.”


	6. Like Fine Wine

“Is this truly necessary, Mrs. Turner?”

“Yes, Commodore, this is truly necessary,” Elizabeth insisted, curling her arm about his and refusing to let him back away from the threshold of the Governor’s mansion. “’Tis not every day my husband is saved from death in the stormy sea by the commodore of Port Royal.”

James wrinkled his nose. “Never mind that just half the day before your husband saved said commodore from the clutches of drunken pirates.”

“Yes, never mind that,” Elizabeth said. “You are the one we are honoring today.”

James suppressed a groan and let her drag him along through the house toward the verandah.

“My father and I are indebted to you, Commodore,” Elizabeth said. “We should have done this months ago, right after you returned, but Father was away on business, and it took time—”

“Mrs. Turner,” James said, stopping and placing a hand over hers on his arm. “Elizabeth.”

She stopped and looked at him with a smile. “Yes, James?”

“I could not in good conscience not at least attempt to recover your husband,” he said quietly. “Jack and I both know how much he means to you.”

Elizabeth’s face was soft with loving appreciation. “Thank you, James. Ever so much.”

James smiled crookedly. “You are indeed welcome.”

Elizabeth looked at him appraisingly. “I hope in time you might forgive me,” she said.

The segue way confused James. “Forgive? Whatever for?”

She just peered at him expectantly and raised her hand—her left hand, adorned with Will’s wedding ring.

“Ah,” James said as understanding dawned. “Well. I admit I was hurt. But that has passed since I have seen your happiness clearly,” he said quietly. “I would much rather you have your joy of him, instead of settling to be merely content with me.” It was a concept he had only expressed to himself some short time before the debacle of his kidnapping. A concept he felt he could now accept that someone else had crept into his regard.

“You are a fine man, James,” Elizabeth murmured, gratitude clear in her eyes.

James allowed a small smile to curve his lips. Such an ironic choice of words. “Indeed.”

“Ah now, such a lovely little moment, I find myself moved.”

Sighing, James didn’t even have to look. “Good day, Captain.”

“Yes, ’tis, isn’t it, Commodore?” Jack said gaily as he walked over to them and gave Elizabeth a peck on the cheek.

“Hello, Jack,” she said fondly.

“The lovely Mrs. Turner, always a pleasure,” Jack said, flirting so obviously that it was clearly affectionate and nothing more.

“Stop making eyes at my wife, Jack,” Will said as he walked down the stairs. Elizabeth left James to join her husband.

“Ah, William!” Jack exclaimed. He meandered over to Will and wavered close by. “You can help out a fellow and point me toward the libations, can’t you?”

James failed to contain his snort, which set Elizabeth into giggles. Jack turned on them with narrowed eyes, but the commodore had no trace of mirth on his face as he blinked at the pirate innocently. It was nigh time he offer Jack some of his own medicine.

“Now Commodore, don’t be a bore,” Jack tutted outrageously as James rolled his eyes. “I’ll have you know this is one of the finest parties going on in Port Royal today.”

“One of?” Elizabeth asked.

“Oh yes. There are always parties,” Jack said, a smirk quirking his lips. “If you know where to look, savvy?”

“They’re probably having a better time than we are,” James said under his breath, drawing a strangled laugh from Will, who stood close enough to James’s elbow to hear. James glanced to the younger man to see his repentant moue, and Will clapped the commodore on the shoulder.

“Come along, Commodore, if anyone deserves a drink tonight, it is you,” Will said, leading James away.

“Easy, what about poor Jack?” the captain bemoaned.

“We’ve stocked plenty of ‘libations’ with you specifically in mind,” Elizabeth said, trying not to laugh.

“Ah, a brilliant lady you are, dear Elizabeth, and I’ll not stand for anyone saying otherwise,” Jack announced as he took her arm. “Especially since you’re improving with that sword of yours,” he added out of the corner of his mouth.

“Will is a wonderful teacher, and of course, I am motivated to learn. One of these days I’ll get away from Father and sail on the _Pearl_ again,” Elizabeth said wistfully.

“You do know, Mrs. Turner, that you’re welcome anytime,” Jack said, his voice full of graciousness.

“Thank you, Jack,” Elizabeth said with a warm smile. “Perhaps soon. I am right now more than happy to keep Will on dry land. Especially since…”

“Since…” Jack wavered to the side as he lurched around to look at her keenly.

Elizabeth blushed and slid her hand discreetly across her body just below her waist. Jack blinked several times before snapping his head and shoulders back in shock.

“There’s to be a Baby Turner?” he asked.

“Hush, Jack!” Elizabeth whispered frantically, looking around. “No one knows yet!”

“Not even William?”

“No, I’m telling him tonight. You keep your mouth shut, Jack Sparrow. I just wanted to let you know, I truly appreciate what you did. Truly,” Elizabeth said earnestly.

Giving her a genuine smile, Jack rocked back on his heel. “I’m to be a godfather, then?” he asked in a comically hushed voice.

Elizabeth covered her mouth to muffle the laugh. “You and James, yes,” she admitted.

The lines on Jack’s face softened, and his eyes went faraway. Elizabeth watched him with a growing smile until he focused on her again, and she covered it with a bright, delighted grin. “Come on, Jack. I made rum punch just for you.”

“You’re a fine woman, luv, and William is a lucky man, I must say. Were it not for him I believe I’d contemplate spiriting you away myself,” Jack complimented.

“Why, thank you, Jack,” Elizabeth said as they walked into the main lounge of the house.

==

The warm Jamaican night throbbed with moisture, and James had to clear his throat as he emerged from the house into it. He had tolerated the party with as much good humor as he could muster, despite the crush of young ladies seeking his attention. Luckily Elizabeth had taken pity upon him and kept to his company for a large portion of the evening.

It was the toast in his honor that had finally broken his resolve to tolerate the event and no more, and Will’s words in praise of James had caused the commodore no end of embarrassment. It seemed no protestation on his part would sway Will and Elizabeth from lauding him, and while he appreciated the thought, he rued their timing and plans to do so in such a public venue.

Which, of course, had been the point. James suspected Jack’s hand in the planning of said event. It had been the pirate who had suggested the event’s conception. And months ago it was that Jack had determined himself to revamp the commodore’s image to Port Royal at large.

Here James felt he had only done his duty (and, in no small measure, his heart). While he could not regret his actions, he could regret the consequences.

Now that he was a “hero”—James huffed and rolled his eyes—there would be no end to the competition for his name when it came to marriage. Young ladies and widows alike were trotted out for his hoped-for attention, and of course, the commodore was strictly polite… but no more.

Even Elizabeth had noticed, he knew, and she was amused by his reticence, especially since he had expressed his forgiveness of her choice to marry Will instead of himself. That did not stop her from making introductions, however.

Finally, after dinner and dancing, he escaped here to the terrace, ostensibly for fresh air, practically for relief, and in reality, a bid to ease his cowardice. He had kissed more hands this evening than the full six months past.

He raised his wine glass, filled with water since he’d been plied with liquor all evening, and took a small sip, looking out over the harbor. From the vantage point of the governor’s mansion, one could see most of Port Royal. What most caught his eye was the _Black Pearl_ , moored safely at the docks.

And her captain was here, wining and dining and generally carousing, though politely and mostly discreetly, especially for Jack Sparrow. It seemed that Jack had learned discretion at some point, though he rarely chose to exercise it.

Jack. The man was never far from James’s thoughts, a fact that stymied him more often than not. It was not only the man’s prankster image and flair for the dramatic; it was the hardy soul beneath the fanciful exterior. The strength and surety of a man who knew himself and his place in the world. It appealed to James like nothing had in a long, long time.

Buried in his musings, he didn’t hear the footsteps upon the stone until two men joined him at the railing.

“We see that Captain Sparrow is here this evening,” George said.

“Dressed to the nines, even,” Thomas said.

“Quite fine,” George added.

James raised an eyebrow, amused. “Searching for companionship?” he nudged in jest.

Thomas’s jaw dropped as George choked on his next words. “James!” he managed to get out as the commodore chuckled.

“That was uncalled for,” Thomas said crossly.

“Perhaps it’s you who searches for companionship,” George said. “After all, many unattached, available young ladies in attendance this evening.”

Now they laughed as James’s nose wrinkled. “Indeed,” he muttered.

“Surely you might seek a woman to take to wife, James. It’s been almost a year since the Turners wed,” George said.

“Have you no interest in finding a heart to match your own?” Thomas asked. “Isn’t that a choice to make to better your life? To accomplish a goal of your own setting?”

James sighed and looked out into the evening. “Yes to all, and well you know it, but all this fawning and simpering and coquettishness grates on my nerves.”

“Yes, I suppose it would,” George said. “Since you are better drawn to strength and character.”

James jerked his chin about. “There are women with those qualities. Perhaps even here.”

“Perhaps,” George allowed.

“We’ve not seen any this evening,” Thomas said under his breath. James raised an eyebrow sharply. “Other than Mrs. Turner, who of course exhibits those qualities,” Thomas added energetically.

James snorted and took a drink of his water. “I believe it was present company that advised me to live my life and not just exist in it,” he pointed out. “Accepting just any woman into my life would certainly be the latter.”

“Certainly,” George echoed, unsure.

“And not at all healthy for your extended well-being,” Thomas added sarcastically.

James rolled his eyes and looked at his two friends. “You two are set on pairing me with someone, aren’t you?”

“It’s your choice, James,” Thomas said intently. “A choice to proceed on the narrow path of your current existence or choosing the unknown, wider road of discovery in living.”

James stared at the other man for a long, long moment. “I am not necessarily known for forging new paths,” he pointed out. “Especially for myself. Think you I don’t hear the gossip, the pity and the coercive plans of society?”

“Hang society and all those who treasure it!” Thomas said hotly. James drew back, startled that such vehemence would come from the kinder of the two lieutenants.

“That’s not you, James,” Thomas insisted. “All that posing and dancing and walking in circles for no real reason. You’re a good man, James. A simple man. A Navy man.”

“Don’t you see?” George asked quietly. “You love the Navy and all it stands for. You love sailing upon all the blue waters. You are an excellent officer who has been promoted because you’re exceedingly good at your job.”

“Not because you enjoy it,” Thomas added.

James stood blinking at them, baffled.

“When was the last time you lived life and simply enjoyed it?” Thomas asked, just another form of his current complaint. “Think about it? Please?”

The commodore looked over the earnest faces before dropping his eyes. “Life is indeed full of choices, isn’t it?” he murmured, turning back to the darkened panorama reaching to the sea.

George and Thomas glanced to each other, still worried, but letting it go for now. “Good night, James,” Thomas bid as they departed.

James stood deep in thought, contemplating the road his life had followed—Thomas’s comparison stark in mind—since he had met one Captain Jack Sparrow.

A walk along the beach, stripped of his uniform and commodore’s mask. A day of sailing, leaving behind the proper Navy officer and becoming once more a competent sailor. A sea battle fraught with danger that became a kidnapping and ended with a rescue. A heroic action nearly at the cost of his own life.

And a quiet change within himself, prodded and pried out by a single man, a pirate whose black heart turned out to be a hidden treasure of gold.

Quiet footsteps came up behind him, and, interrupted, James sighed, resigning himself to further fawning company. But when no one spoke, he looked behind him.

Jack stood there with two glasses of deep ruby red, watching him speculatively. Then he jerked into motion. “How about a glass of wine,” he offered.

James shook his head and held up the glass of water as Jack joined him at the terrace railing.

“To you, Commodore Norrington, the hero of the hour,” Jack toasted with a wicked twinkle in his eye as he set the other glass on the stone at his feet.

“Thank you, Captain Sparrow,” James said dryly, and they both sipped from the glasses, and Jack frowned at his a little, drawing a chuckle from James.

“Eh,” Jack dismissed. “I prefer my rum, and well you know it.”

“Of course,” James humored him.

“I saw your two men depart from here, did they seek to return you to the party?”

“No,” James said with a shake of his head. “Merely to commiserate and offer support.”

“Good men, then,” Jack said approvingly. “And a good couple as well.”

James’s eyebrow jumped sharply, eliciting a grin from the pirate. “Anyone familiar with matters of the heart could see. Well, along with an open mind.”

The commodore nodded slowly. Most if not all the upper-class denizens would never conceive of two men choosing a life together. Though James had some idea of the prospect from his years in the Navy—long sails with no women often saw men discreetly turn to others for companionship—he had no experience with such.

“Have you an open mind, James?”

Blinking his mind back to the discussion at hand, James nodded. “I do, actually. At least where those two are concerned.”

“They’re your friends,” Jack said sagely.

“Yes. Fine friends,” James agreed.

“A man will do much for those he counts as his friends,” Jack mentioned before taking a deep draught of wine to empty the glass and exchange it for the other he’d brought along.

“You and the Turners are friends,” James observed.

“Yes,” Jack said soberly. “William and Elizabeth are good people with eager hearts.”

“Aren’t they just,” James said, and he looked at Jack, studying him.

“Did you choose to sail to Sterett Cove because friend William requested it?” James asked quietly, staring out at the sea.

When he heard no answer, James turned his chin to see Jack, discovering the pirate looked at him intently. It appeared as if Jack were coming to some weighty decision, and James met dark eyes with his own as Jack leaned sideways, closer and closer, like he planned to share a secret.

James would remember later that they moved that last little bit to press their mouths together, tentative at first as if each expected the other to jerk away. But instead they shifted closer, facilitating the blooming kiss and flare of heat between them.

The exaggerated tilts of their heads kept their hats out of the way, but that didn’t slow down the building fervor. James shivered as Jack’s lips opened under his, and he shuddered as Jack’s hot, wet tongue slid along his lips to ask entrance.

They sipped of each other for what felt like forever, and James thought the he might fall weakly against the balcony railing, he was so dizzy. But Jack’s hand clasped his upper arm firmly, and the strength of it reassured the commodore.

James was about to turn mindlessly to push closer when Jack started withdrawing, pausing to drop three soft, gentle kisses upon James’s lips before ending this first meeting.

“Ah, my Jamie, you taste like fine wine, and I’m of a mind to sample more,” Jack said throatily as he slowly stepped back, an arm’s length away, clasping his hands behind his back in a bid to keep them to himself.

Straightening, James lifted one hand to press slightly shaking fingers to his now damp lips. He imagined he looked stunned. He certainly _felt_ stunned. He’d imagined it in the dark of the night, wondering what a kiss from this insanely captivating pirate would feel like, and his imaginings could no more compare than one might match the sun and the moon.

Jack tipped his head to one side as he continued to edge away along the balcony. He gave James—fine and fair James—a tiny, knowing smile. “Cat got your tongue?”

Staring at the pirate who’d stolen his breath along with his kiss, James slowly shook his head. “Sparrow got my tongue,” he corrected huskily.

James watched Jack’s lips part in surprise as something scampered through the pirate’s eyes, those dark, dark eyes, that so closely resembled lustful want as to make James flush hot all over. James drew a deep breath and was about to speak when a group of four walked out onto the terrace to see the stars. A streak of disappointment and frustration cut into him.

The frustration echoed on Jack’s face, particularly in the lines about his eyes and mouth. “A lovely evening to you, Commodore,” he said, sketching a florid bow for the onlookers’ benefit.

“And to you, Captain Sparrow,” James replied. If his voice were darker than usual, perhaps the warm, humid weather could be blamed. Perhaps he could also blame his overheated and buzzing skin to the weather as well. He pinned Jack with his eyes. “I look forward to our next meeting. Perhaps then… I might sample some of that rum punch.”

Jack’s brow furrowed, and he tipped his head sideways in confusion. Feeling a rush of pleasure because he’d confounded Jack and he already knew what to do next, James slowly extended his tongue the tiniest bit to trace his bottom lip.

The commodore had never seen the pirate so totally flummoxed.

Jack literally backed into the wall and laughed nervously, swaying dangerously as he often did on land. “Too much wine,” he murmured, peering at James with the oddest look of surprise on his face.

“Hmmm. Perhaps you shall become more accustomed to the vintage the more often you sample it,” James said lightly, desperately knuckling down on the urge to snigger as Jack’s eyes went comically wide. The commodore managed—with the help of the divine Lord, he was sure—to keep a straight face and merely raise an eyebrow.

Finally the pirate seemed to right himself, and after narrowing his eyes, Jack meandered over to poke James in the chest. “It appears I have missed the opportune moment,” Jack drawled. “But I’m sure it shall come again.”

“Indeed,” James said flatly. He could feel the eyes of the other guests on them, and he kept his back and shoulders properly ramrod straight. Frankly, the urge to slump and curl into Jack’s arms was nearly overwhelming, which was shocking in itself. James had never been the sort to cling to a lover, even were it another man.

Jack met James’s eyes. After a long moment’s silent communion, they both nodded.

“I’ll be taking my leave, then,” Jack said. He turned smartly on his heel and walked back into the house, leaving James with four other party guests, a half-empty glass of wine, and a crescent moon in the hazy night sky.


	7. A Fine Sight More

“’Twas a devious thing you did, James,” Jack announced upon entering James’s office, a roomy area enclosed by the stone of the fort. The desk itself was of heavy wood, stained dark.

“Was it?” James answered distractedly, not even looking up from his paperwork.

“Aye, ’twas,” Jack insisted, flouncing over to lean on the corner of the commodore’s desk. “A fine stroke of tactics, as it were.”

James smiled at his correspondence as he kept scribing. “I am a commodore, after all.”

“And a fine sight more,” Jack drawled.

James brought his chin up to look at Jack with sparkling eyes though his demeanor remained strictly proper. “And what brings you to Port Royal for this visit, Captain?” he asked mildly.

“Mmmm. I suppose the fair winds, Commodore. It’s been nigh a month since I saw your smiling face,” Jack said jauntily, doffing his tricorn.

James raised an eyebrow. “Has it been so long since you graced us with your august presence?” the commodore asked dryly. James knew perfectly well it had been twenty-eight and a half days, a fact that left him bemused as he kept his tally.

Jack hummed in reply. “You should know, Commodore. Such a cunning riposte as what you executed is befitting the best of pirates,” he said, shaking a finger.

“I am not a pirate,” James objected, squaring his shoulders as he sat up straight.

“Perhaps you’re a pirate at heart, buried under all that starch and linen, luv,” Jack suggested just as Lieutenant Gillette entered with the day’s post.

His attention split, James accepted the stack of letters with a frown of distaste. “Thank you, Thomas,” he murmured.

“Of course, Commodore. Good day, Captain,” Thomas tipped his hat to Jack and went on his way.

“’Tis no wonder your face remains so pinched,” Jack said, poking at the piles of paper.

“The price of rank, I’m afraid,” James said with a sigh.

“One would think a man of rank such as yourself could delegate such tasks as these on such a beautiful day as it is and take a sail across the bay,” Jack said innocently, still perched on James’s desk but peering out the wide window. “As it were.”

“Not your most delicate of hints,” James commented. He’d gotten better at following Jack’s rambling sentences, although he still wondered if the pirate spoke in that manner on purpose.

Jack grinned back at the commodore. “And I find myself with a powerful thirst after such a long time at sea,” he said directly. “Didn’t want to drink all by my onesies.”

James stayed utterly still for several moments, trying to calm his pounding heart. Then, folding his hands in front of him, he fixed his gaze on Jack, who still sat on the corner of the wooden workspace. James fancied he could feel the heat radiating from the pirate. “I’m sure you might find your choice of beverage in any of the common pubs,” he said, his voice smokier than usual. James could see the hunger in Jack’s eyes, and a shiver rippled down his spine.

“Ah, but what I crave is anything but common, Jamie,” Jack rasped as he leaned toward James. “And such a fine vintage is not to be found in any pub. I’ve been mightily spoilt, you see.”

James couldn’t stop the twitch of excitement that caught him, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to reinforce his resolve after Jack's lips moved to not even an arm's-length away. The proprieties must be observed, after all.

Though he didn’t look, James could feel Jack watching him intently, apparently unwilling to move his gaze; while at the same time, James couldn’t make himself look up to see the man he’d thought about every day and every night since that blasted party. Now that he was but a breath away, he could hardly restrain the impulse to steal another kiss.

But it wouldn’t do. Wouldn’t do at all, here at the fort, here where James was most the commodore.

“Now that I’m in port, James, how might you entertain me?” Jack asked, one hand moving around the paper on top of the pile near his knee.

James opened his eyes to glance at the papers before daring return his gaze to Jack. “I? Entertain you? Why ever for?” The amusement clearly sparkled in his eyes.

“Tut tut, now, James, you make a fine host when you put your mind to it,” Jack chastised with a flip of his hand.

“You mean I lay a fine spread and provide you with plenty of scotch to drink,” James said drolly, knowing full well what the pirate was after.

“But of course!” Jack exclaimed. “’Tis one of your more redeeming factors.”

James had to bite his tongue to keep back the scoffing laugh. “Jack Sparrow, I’ll have you know I’ve many redeeming factors.”

“Oh aye, you do,” Jack drawled, his lips curling into a knowing smirk.

James snatched up a sheaf of papers and swatted at Jack's arm. "Get out of my office. One of us must work today." But a ghost of a smile tilted the corners of his mouth upward.

“Entertainment?” Jack prodded, refusing to budge from his seat. "Else I shall be obliged to find my own…”

“Down in the harbor pubs, I am sure,” James muttered, remembering less than happily the women who’d clung to Jack that long-ago morning, the day he’d sailed on the _Black Pearl_. “I concede," he huffed, sounding greatly put upon, and indeed somewhat resentful that Jack would tease him so. Pubs, indeed. “Call at my home about eight this evening for dinner.”

“Why, Commodore, ’tis a lovely invitation which I am quite pleased to accept,” Jack said brightly as he hoisted himself off the desk and stood next to James's chair. “Shall I bring some humble contribution?”

Loosing his restraint just enough to allow himself to breathe, James let his lips pull into a tight smile and slowly raised an eyebrow as he looked Jack up and down meaningfully. “Yourself shall quite suffice. I shall provide… the wine.”

The pirate blinked, but just as quickly narrowed his eyes. James broke into an honest smile at seeing he had surprised Jack once again.

“You take far, far too much pleasure in that, Jamie,” Jack drawled, setting a hand on the edge of the desk in front of James and leaning over slowly. “Much, much too much pleasure.”

“You cannot tell me, Jack,” James said, his voice low and honeyed, “that you are condemning the pursuit of pleasure.”

Dark eyes met light, and without warning, Jack darted forward to steal a flaming kiss before jerking back and walking away, leaving James shocked and short of breath. “I shall see you at eight, Commodore,” Jack announced smugly. “And I expect a fine vintage on the table.” With that parting shot, he was gone from the doorway, leaving James in the empty office to deliberate upon the surely sea-tossed relationship in which he found himself ensnared.

==

The eight o’clock evening hour was past dark, even for tropical Jamaica. Jack made his way through the streets, a bottle of rum under his arm, and stopped in front of the tall, imposing stone house with a grimace on his face.

“No sort of proper home,” he mumbled as he climbed the step and knocked upon the heavy wooden door. Several moments later, the door opened.

“Good evening, Captain. I’m quite pleased to see you,” said Lieutenant George Groves.

Jack blinked at him owlishly. “You are?”

George smiled thinly. “Yes. Please come in, if you like. Though I warn you. Now is not… the best of times.”

“Not the best of times? The commodore only this afternoon invited me for dinner,” Jack said as he crossed the threshold and George closed the door behind him.

“Jack, I’m glad to see you.”

The pirate turned his head to see Thomas Gillette descending the stairs. “What are you on about, Thomas?”

“James received some bad news today,” Thomas said, stopping on the bottom stair and looking toward George.

“Bad news?” Jack echoed.

The two lieutenants looked at one another again. “Will you be staying the evening, Captain?” George asked more formally.

Jack frowned. “I had planned to stay the evening, aye. What is amiss?” He turned narrowed eyes on Thomas.

“Will you be staying the night, Jack?” Thomas asked more bluntly.

The pirate went very still as he considered his words carefully. “’Tis the commodore’s home, and so, I would consider it his right to issue an invitation.”

George scoffed. “Are you staying or not?”

Jack swayed a bit side to side, betraying usually hidden nerves. “Yes?” he answered cautiously, eyes darting between them.

“We’ve been with him all afternoon and all evening. He won’t listen to us, perhaps he’ll listen to you,” Thomas said as he opened a door.

“Will you tell me or not…” Jack stopped in the doorway, stock still, eyes widening in surprise.

James sat—no, sprawled—in a wide armchair. He’d stripped out of his jacket, cravat, waistcoat, belt and shoes, leaving only his stockings, trousers and shirt, which itself was messily unlaced. His hat and wig he’d tossed without care upon his desk, apparently practically ripped from his head because pins littered the floor and his usually carefully restrained dark hair was tumbled over his shoulders.

Most interestingly, he held a bottle in one hand that dragged along the floor each time he took a drink and let his arm collapse back down. Jack blinked.

“How long has he been like this?” Jack asked in a staged whisper.

“All evening,” Thomas said.

“He’s a ruddy mess, is what he is,” George muttered. Thomas thwapped him upside the head, drawing a soft squawk.

“What put him in this condition?” Jack asked, practically boggling as he watched James raise the bottle for another drink, apparently ignoring them, as he couldn’t possibly not hear them.

George pointed toward the desk. “Have a lovely evening, Jack. God bless you.” He grabbed Thomas’s hand and dragged him out of the room despite his lover’s protests, and the door shut the pirate and the commodore inside. Jack watched James for a long minute before walking to the table and setting down the bottle he’d brought along.

Though remaining in his dazed drunkenness, James knew he was there and knew he was watching him. He simply couldn’t bring himself to broach a conversation. Although, James thought almost hysterically, there was no reason to keep himself from Jack’s company any longer, was there?

Leaning against the edge of the table with his arms crossed, Jack studied James for some time. “James, as much as I appreciate your effort to make me feel at home, don’t you think this is going a bit far simply to be neighborly?”

James turned bloodshot eyes on the pirate and openly sniggered. “Neighborly? Ohhh no. Friendly. Yes, very friendly. That’s what I’m going for.”

Jack flinched in surprise. “I didn’t know you had such a flair for the dramatic.”

“I only observe the best, Captain Sparrow,” James said, practically flailing with the bottle. “And you certainly have flair and drama down pat.”

The pirate preened. “Work at it, I do. But you, James, you are much more the considerate, proper man. This is very unlike you, and I’m not at all sure I approve, mate.”

“Don’t bloody care if you approve or not,” James muttered uncharitably.

Jack’s brow rose slowly as he peered at James. “What if I said I’m not at all sure I like it?”

James squirmed uncomfortably. That was an altogether different comment, and James didn’t care for how he felt about it. He settled on a soft hmmph as a reply, but he didn’t take another drink. Yet.

The captain sighed. “Drink as you like, Jamie. I’ll join you, even.”

James looked up, actually finding himself able to look contrite. “I forgot you were coming to dinner,” he said miserably.

Jack grinned. “Did you, now?” Mumbling in response, James grew more embarrassed and it showed in his flushing cheeks, which delighted Jack to no end. “Well, I’m here now, and according to Thomas and George I’m to stay the night.”

“The night?” James echoed.

“Aye, luv. The night.” Jack watched James intently. The commodore could feel those dark eyes intent upon him.

“All right,” James finally said in a small voice.

Jack tilted his head to one side. “What’s wrong, Jamie?” he asked softly.

James went totally still, even his eyes going unfocused as he stared at the wall, and the commodore seriously considered not answering. But Jack would plot and pry and plead and prod until he shared. “I have lost too many ships for a man of my rank to hold any favor with the Admiralty,” he said bitterly before taking another deep swallow of liquor.

Jack blinked at him. “Too many ships? Three ships?” He winced, knowing two, the _Dauntless_ and the _Interceptor_ , were easily and correctly attributed to his influence. The other, the recent and much-lamented _Victory_ , however, he’d had no touch upon.

“Three ships too many for a supposedly celebrated commodore,” James said.

“You’re a fine sight more than ‘supposedly celebrated’. What do we care about the Admiralty?” Jack ventured.

James snorted. “Right now? Not a bedamned whit.”

Jack stifled a laugh. “Ah. But what about not now?”

The commodore winced. “The Admiralty decides who among rank receives postings and promotions. I would not have this command were it not for their orders.”

The pirate put together what information he had and came to a very upsetting, very unacceptable conclusion. “And they say that you have lost too many ships?”

“Too many ships,” James said blearily, leaning his head back after another long drink. He was getting sleepy, and although he wanted to bask in Jack’s company, it was becoming progressively more difficult to fight off the allure of sleep and its accompanying release from the cares of the world.

Jack watched James begin to droop, and he moved to take the bottle from the commodore’s lax fingers. He lifted one hand and laid it upon James’s brow, gently brushing back his untidy hair. “Rest, Jamie. You need it. I’ll be here to watch over you.”

James let his eyes fall closed. If he could not have the Navy, but yet could have his life, he hoped he might be able to keep Jack Sparrow in it. Then the beckoning sleep drew him away.

The pirate’s hand slid through James’s hair for some time, and then Jack leaned to press a kiss to the corner of James’s mouth. Jack straightened and took the mostly empty bottle of brandy—grimacing at the label—and set it on the table next to the more proper rum he’d acquired. It was then that his eye was drawn to a particularly folded and crumpled paper on top of others on the far side of the wooden tabletop.

Curious, Jack reached for it and flattened it on the hard surface, revealing the scripted text. As he read, his eyes narrowed further and further, and his lips pressed into a hard, flat line. Soon finished with the sad excuse of a missive, Jack crumpled it again, worse than before, as he looked to James with a near-feral, protective gleam in his eyes.

==

“Good day, Commodore.”

James looked up from the writing desk in his study, surprised. “Jack, I did not expect you back so soon. It’s only been two wee—”

“Aye, well, the Lady Sea, she directs me as she will, savvy?” Jack interrupted as he stepped into the room.

James nodded slowly, feeling the queue of hair rub against his neck. He was properly attired this morning, besides the jacket, wig and hat. A fine sight better than the night two weeks ago that James had only dim recollection of. Jack, however, was surprisingly attired all in dark leather and linen, bereft of the normal colorful accoutrements, barring the ever-present red headscarf, which itself even looked tinged with black. The serious set of the pirate’s shoulders drew James’s focus. “Is something amiss?”

“James, you know full well what is amiss.”

The commodore’s face hardened. “There’s no avoiding what is coming, Captain. The admiral’s arrival is bad enough. Now the news that his convoy will be attacked by a small pirate flotilla makes it ever so much worse.”

Jack frowned. “We’ve two weeks before said admiral descends upon Port Royal and those pirates wreak havoc upon our lovely Caribbean. And I’ll have you know there are several among us who are none too pleased about the prospect of having our balance disrupted.” He rocked back on his heels, thumbs in his belt.

“And pray tell, who is we, Jack?” James asked irritably, wondering who Jack was naming as pirates: the directors of the flotilla or the Admiralty inbound.

“Everyone!” Jack said, gesturing expansively.

“Everyone,” James repeated flatly. He closed his eyes on the now-constant feeling of dread curling in his gut. He’d decided that the admiral’s visit, along with the tone of a second letter received, would almost certainly hearken the sudden end of his Naval career. The way things were shaping up, he’d be lucky to avoid being shot.

Jack’s voice turned serious. “Aye, everyone. You know the residents of Port Royal support you, and your Navy men, of course. The English merchantmen as well, for you’ve managed to reduce the risk of pirate mischief by turning us—most of us, anyway—to other targets. And that most of us are quite pleased with you as well.”

James thought the pirate looked inordinately pleased with himself. “I don’t understand what that has to do with the admiral’s arrival being marred by yet another pirate attack within my supposedly guarded waters.”

“Ah, but those aren’t your pirates.”

Baffled, James leaned back in his chair tiredly. He waved his hand in a weak invitation to continue.

“Those so-called pirates, evil men, one and all, don’t hail from Singapore or Tortuga or even the horn of Africa. They’ve sailed up from the south looking for easy pickings. And we, your pirates, are none too inclined to welcome them, much less condone their actions.”

“Don’t want to share the loot, I’d imagine,” James muttered, wondering how much Jack had had to drink this morning. “And how is it remotely possible that I have my own pirates?”

“Well…” Jack began speculatively, but he managed to stop himself. “So I’ve come to tell you that we, your pirates, have agreed that beginning two weeks hence, none shall raid, pillage, plunder or otherwise pilfer one’s weasely black guts out at any of the ports under your protection for the space of thirty days.”

All James could do was stare. “I don’t understand.”

“I have a plan,” Jack shared cheerfully.

“A plan.”

“Yes, a fine plan.”

“A plan.”

“Pull yourself together, Commodore!” Jack barked suddenly.

James’s spine snapped straight as his temper flared. “And what, pray tell, do you propose, Captain Sparrow? I have control of four ships, fast but small, a sorry number were my pirates not currently amused elsewhere.”

“Yes,” Jack confirmed. “But now we’re ready to find something else to do.” He walked to James’s desk, laid his hands upon the polished top and leaned over it. “But you will owe us a favor. A rather large favor. Do we have an accord?”

James shivered at the thought of owing this pirate any sort of favor—a shiver full of anticipation and tinged with concern. He frowned.

Jack smirked, leaned over, and kissed that frown right off James’s face. The commodore went very still as warm, deceptively soft lips slid against his own. He might have thought it a distraction tactic, but Jack lingered, and James could feel the prickle of Jack’s mustache and goatee against his own clean-shaven face.

His eyes fluttered shut as he joined the kiss, tipping his head slightly to one side to facilitate Jack’s advance, and as that curious heat seeped into him, he sighed soundlessly when Jack momentarily increased the pressure of his kiss. For the first time, James reached up to lightly touch Jack’s cheek as they kissed; his fingers firmly but curiously coasted from braided hair to the corner of Jack’s occupied mouth.

When the pirate pulled back, James still looked at him suspiciously, but it was more a reflection of intrigue backed by a spark of heat in his gaze. Jack could be quite convincing when he set his mind to it, the commodore thought wryly.

“What sort of favor?” James rasped.


	8. A Fine Plan

The white-foam-topped billows crashed against the bow of the small ship as it danced over the waves, riding the wind to the utmost of its sails. A portly man with a red face smiled from the wheel as the wind coasted over his bald head and snapped the pirate’s pinion far above. Two other similar pirate vessels rode the water at his ship’s side.

Yet two more rode ahead of him but behind the flagship, skipping over the rising breakers handily, the spray splattering their decks. A proudly smiling Anamaria stood at the wheel of one, Gibbs at her side; Will Turner steered the other while Elizabeth leaned partway over the side, whooping her joy aloud as the wind tore through her unbound hair and ignoring her hovering father, the governor himself, dressed down sans hat, wig, and jacket.

Slightly to the sides of Anamaria’s and Will’s vessels sailed four smaller clippers, the wood of their hulls blotched and dirty with waterproof tar, and the stained and ripped sailcloth flying from the beams of the masts. A ragged black flag flew from each of the tallest masts, but nothing could be done for the waxed, white ropes. Grinning sailors in various states of messy dress—and undress—swarmed the decks and rigging.

“My men are enjoying this far too much,” James muttered from the wheel deck of the _Black Pearl_ , the ship leading the fleet of ten.

Jack snickered. “Ah, Jamie, every man yearns to be a pirate sometime in his life. Even the esteemed governor, it seems.”

Stifling a chuckle, James sniffed and folded his arms over his own worn clothing, duds Jack had pulled out of the commodore’s wardrobe what seemed ages ago for that one stolen, fine day. “If this works they will have earned the time,” he said.

“Afraid of a mutiny, Commodore?” Jack asked whimsically from where he stood at the wheel of the _Pearl_.

James turned and walked to stand beside him. “Hardly. More that they’ll resign their commissions or drop their contracts at end to become privateers thanks to your influence.”

Jack smiled widely. “The sea can always use more pirates.”

“ _Privateers_ ,” James emphasized despite Jack’s wink in his direction. “And this plan of yours will allow the Caribbean many more privateers as it is.” He looked from side to side to see the six ships other than his own sailing full out nearby, all dressed down shabbily and flying the black flag.

“It will be worth it, James,” Jack said cheerfully. He tilted his head to the side, perusing James’s visage in return. “You’re not going to ask me why I planned it?”

James slowly shook his head. He was fairly sure he already knew why.

“Not at all?” Jack prodded, frowning very slightly.

Sighing, James fixed his gaze on Jack. “You don’t want the Admiralty to remove me from my post.”

Jack nodded.

“You feel badly about contributing to the losses of the _Dauntless_ and the _Interceptor_ , and hope to replace them for me by capturing twice as many pirate ships.”

Jack tipped his head to one side, and then nodded.

“You want to thumb your nose to the Admiralty concerning my issuance of letters of marque to questionable individuals.”

Jack grinned and nodded.

“You want to encourage me to set aside common sense and revel in captaining a pirate ship.”

Jack’s grin grew even wider.

“I hope this plan works,” James muttered, settling his hands at his hips. “Else I’ll be shot under that black flag, and it’s not at all the end I have in mind for myself.”

“Oh, it will work. It cannot fail. I’ve put far too much time in reforming you to a proper scallywag,” Jack said confidently.

“I’m not a scallywag,” James said, offended.

“A pirate, then.”

“I am not a pirate!” James exclaimed.

“Well, now, Jamie. I wouldn’t be so quick to disavow it.” Jack set the wheel and started down the steps, pausing part way to turn with a twitch to look up at the commodore. “After all, you are in charge of your very own pirate fleet.”

James stared at Jack in disbelief, and the pirate just pointed upward without breaking eye contact. James’s eyes darted up to see the flagship’s skull and crossbones flying above them… and he was the ranking officer of all the vessels in the fleet. His incredulous gaze tore back to Jack, who just grinned cheekily and flounced his way to the bottom of the stairs.

Ready to open his mouth and throw a proper invective Jack’s way, James was interrupted by an “Ahoy!” Pressing his lips together hard, the commodore turned his attention to the group of ships growing quickly larger as the _Black Pearl_ swiftly approached them.

“Is it them?” he asked as he joined Jack on the port side.

“Aye, ’tis,” Jack confirmed. “Bloody pirates,” he spat, and James had to stifle a strangled laugh. “Well,” the captain said snootily, “they give us proper pirates a bad name.”

James didn’t even try to squelch the laugh this time. “You’re quite mad, you know that?”

Jack preened. “’Tis part of my charm.” The _Black Pearl_ changed its tack at Jack’s direction so they would parallel the southern pirates’ flotilla, not so close as to yell, but near enough to see.

“I hope this works,” James murmured again as Jack flounced off.

The flashy privateer jumped up onto the railing, holding fast to a rope, and waved his arm widely. An older man, the captain apparently, came to the side, looked at Jack, and nodded. Jack grinned and doffed his hat, bowed deeply, and gestured for the southern pirates to take the lead.

The other captain laughed and waved, and the southern pirates began to cheer. Jack’s crew and some of the other Port Royal “pirates” yelled as well, and the flotilla sailed ahead as Jack waved at them cheerfully before climbing down.

“It worked!” James exclaimed once Jack returned to his side.

Jack let out a long, shaky breath, which drew a look of astonishment from the commodore. Jack shrugged and smiled weakly. “I didn’t expect the bastards to have twelve ships. Seven, maybe. Nine at the most.”

James’s face drew into a pinched expression of annoyance, and he smacked Jack’s arm, hard. The pirate winced and yelped, grabbing his wrist. “Not the sword arm!”

James frowned deeply. “Jack Sparrow—”

“James Norrington,” Jack interrupted. “It worked. Now close your yap and check on your men.”

A subvocal growl issued from James’s throat, but he turned to do as he was bid, though not without throwing another resentful look over his shoulder. He called belowdecks and his men filed out, staying low so they wouldn’t be seen. A wave to the other disguised English ships had them preparing the same.

By the time he rejoined Jack, their fleet of ten and the flotilla of twelve were closing in on a lone galleon escorted by a mere three _Interceptor_ -class ships.

“He didn’t even bring a First Rate,” James said in disgust.

“Doesn’t bode well for him, does it,” Jack murmured. “Twenty-two ships on four. Might be why the poor admiral is quaking in his boots.” He offered his scope to James, who took a look and shook his head.

“They’re trying to run,” James said.

“Wouldn’t you if a massive group of pirates sailed up right next to you and spit?” Jack said reasonably. “If we all did that he’d sink without us firing a shot.” He left the railing and climbed back to the wheel deck, turning the _Black Pearl_ so they sailed along some distance away aside the southern pirates. All the ships in their Port Royal fleet turned as well, spreading out into a half arc.

They watched and waited as the English Naval ships finally drew down their sails and ran up the white flag, and despite the plan, James’s fingers curled into a tight fist. A gentle hand covered it, and James looked to see Jack’s hand over his, though the pirate was watching the events carefully. James relaxed under the touch and ordered his mind, preparing for what was to come.

“Well, now, Commodore, would you care to give the order to your fleet?” Jack asked, eyes dancing.

“Well, now, Captain, I think I will,” James answered, eliciting a joyful laugh from the pirate. Drawing a deep breath, he started yelling orders.

The cannon ports opened on most of the ships curved around the southern pirates, who were focused on the loot hidden in the English galley. It gave James the minute he needed, and then he yelled,

“ _Fire!_ ”

The cannons boomed, sending shot into the southern ships. Shocked, those pirates ran about like mad, some felled, some scrambling for weapons. The pirate captain screamed orders to make sail and pull away, but the Port Royal fleet knew what it was doing.

The half arc of “pirate” ships ringed in the southern vessels, trapping them against the English ships, making them sitting ducks. And as those pirates got their feet under them and prepared to return fire, James executed the next step of Jack’s plan.

Red coats suddenly appeared all over the Port Royal pirate fleet, drawn from under sackcloth and stairs, pulled from inside barrels and boxes, and the men James had ushered from below decks stood en masses, raised their rifles, and fired a volley into the southern pirates’ flotilla. Will’s and Anamaria’s ships did the same with their Naval crews, while the pirates populating the other Port Royal ships pulled on the red jackets and started swarming the sides as their ships pulled alongside the trapped vessels.

When the black flags in James’s fleet dropped and the English flags were run up the masts to catch and billow in the wind, the crews of the proper English ships cheered and joined the fight.

The captains of each Port Royal ship pulled out distinctive blue coats and donned them, continuing to give orders as the fleet closed in on the flotilla to strike hard. The southern pirates were already scattering and diving overboard to avoid the massive clouds of shot issuing from the English guns, and the enemy captain screamed his orders, red-faced.

It didn’t take long for the Port Royal privateer navy to swarm the southern pirates’ ships, having caught them unawares and unprepared. Swords flashed and the fight raged. Will and Elizabeth fought at each other’s backs while James led a large group of red coats across two ships toward the admiral’s galleon. Jack met Anamaria and another of the privateer captains and they made their way toward the southern pirates’ leader.

The Port Royal fleet’s superior firepower made a huge difference. But the galleon was still endangered as the enemy pirate captain and a goodly part of his crew rushed the Naval men, capturing the admiral and his officers in a nasty fight. James’s and Jack’s groups converged upon the galleon at the same time, and they fought in close quarters.

While trying to keep an eye on Jack, James made his way toward the admiral, fighting off the enemy with vicious strokes. He and his men finally cleared an area around the ranking English officer when he heard a yelp: “No! Sir!” Slicing, red-hot pain cut into his right thigh, and James turned toward his attacker without thinking, barely stopping the edge of his sword at the admiral’s throat.

Breathing heavily, James sneered at the blue-and-gold-gilt jacket and spun away to fight off the pirates still converging, and the lieutenants at the admiral’s side ushered him off into the main cabin, shutting the doors firmly. When James looked up to see them disappear, he growled and turned to join Jack’s fight against the enemy.

Then, after all that fighting, the southern pirate captain turned his gun on himself, and it was all over.

The enemy pirates dropped their weapons, and the Port Royal fleet began to cheer.

==

James hissed as Jack tied the cloth over and around his slashed and bleeding thigh.

“Babe,” Jack teased, looking up from where he knelt down to do the tending.

The commodore harrumphed and rolled his eyes. “I see you escaped unscathed yet again.” He looked Jack over carefully for the third time, making sure he didn’t see any injuries. He’d seen the pirate captain go down more than once, and it had scared him. Scared him. James closed his eyes for a long moment and took a steadying breath.

“That’s because I’m careful,” Jack said, getting to his feet.

“I’m careful,” James insisted, his eyes snapping open. “Not a mark on me until that blasted admiral took it into his head to get frisky and assume I was a pirate despite my uniform blouse.”

Jack smirked, idly straightening the open lapels of said blue tailored blouse slightly over the sweaty white linen of James’s undershirt, which sagged open at the throat and revealed his bare chest. “Dashing as the jacket is, I prefer you without it.”

“You prefer me in Port Royal,” James said softly.

Shifting his eyes to the side to peer at the commodore, Jack shrugged easily. “Of course, known quantity that you are,” he said smoothly, flipping his hair back over one shoulder.

“You prefer me with you,” James said, even softer, daring to speak aloud what he hadn’t even admitted to himself.

The humor and bravado dimmed, and Jack looked all too human and fragile as something indefinable shone in his eyes. “I do,” he confirmed, just as quietly.

“Tell me why,” James requested evenly. He wanted to know that this… this communion between them was more than a teasing friendship.

Jack shifted his weight subtly from side to side with the light shift of the waves. “You’re a fine man, James,” he murmured. “My fine and fair Jamie. You keep me from throwing myself about without any care of the consequences; you make me think twice before I get myself soused. You make me believe there’s something more to living than just sailing the sea alone. You’ve no idea how much you’ve influenced me, my Jamie. Despite all I do to tease about making you a scallywag—and a fine one you’d be, luv—you’re much more ahead on the road of making me a proper citizen who has reason to set his feet on dry land more often.”

James raised a brow slowly, taking in all of Jack’s words and contemplating them, feeling the rush in his veins and the growing fondness for this man invade his heart. Finally, he deliberately looked Jack over. “You seem awfully comfortable in that jacket,” he observed.

The pirate’s lips twitched. He relaxed and shrugged easily. “You’ve said yourself I carry off drama well.” His eyes twinkled as he leaned on the ship’s railing.

“Yes, you do,” James confirmed quietly. He studied Jack’s face. “It was an excellent plan, Jack. A fine plan indeed.” He plucked at the blue jacket that fit snugly over Jack’s shoulders. It was slightly faded and had a worn folded mark along the waist. The braid was slightly different than his own, and there was no insignia to be seen. “This is not a new jacket I provided, is it?” he said intently.

Jack lifted his chin. “No,” he allowed.

“Worn the jacket a time or two, have you?”

“A time or two,” Jack allowed. He paused and met those glittering eyes, and the pirate’s lips curled up slightly. “Once upon a time. A long-time-ago reason for me to somewhat understand you the way I do.”

Smiling wryly as he grasped what Jack was telling him, James murmured “Pirate” and captured Jack’s face between both hands and kissed him fervently. The attraction flared between them unabated and finally unbanked as they curled into each other’s arms, their mouths battling and surrendering in equal measure.

It was wet and warm and enticing, and James could not make himself pull away from the waves of simple, yearned-for pleasure that crashed over him just as the sea broke against the bowsprit of the sailing ship. Jack’s facile tongue slid along his and James shivered, prompting Jack to pull him closer until their bodies stood flush against one another. The damp, salty fabric of their much-abused clothing rubbed against James’s skin, a sharp counterpoint to the warm, soft brushes against Jack’s flesh.

James sighed against Jack’s kiss and redoubled his efforts, determined to show Jack how much he wanted this, wanted him: A fine man. A friend. A confidante. A lover. The line had been crossed, and James wasn’t looking back.

Bearded and bristled faces pricked at tanned and pale skin as the deep, soaking kisses continued, and the two men ignored the world moving on around them.

From across the galleon’s wide deck, Elizabeth watched, comfortably gathered against her husband’s warm body, her head tucked under his chin. She smiled and shifted to look up at Will, whose lips were twitching, and he shook his head and looked down at her. They shared their smiles, their eyes returning to appreciate the sight of their friends holding each other so close.

“Ah, but I wish very much to ensure the commodore accepts my apology, Weatherby,” Admiral Whelan insisted as he exited the main cabin and stepped out onto the desk, trailed by three other minor officers, before stopping just around the windows and stairs that shielded Jack and James from their view. “I feel quite badly about my actions.”

“Admiral,” Governor Swann spluttered, “I’m quite sure Commodore Norrington is very busy preparing the ships to sail to port…”

Elizabeth jerked up, eyes shifting from the admiral to Jack and James, who were still totally absorbed in one another. Will’s hands tightened on her arms for a moment, and then he let her go.

“Father,” she called out, moving to intercept the small group of Naval officers. “I really am not feeling so well… ah…” Elizabeth wavered, held her wrist to her forehead, and toppled over in a dead faint.

“Mrs. Turner!” “Elizabeth!” “Lieutenant, fetch some water!”

“Here we go again,” Will muttered, wandering over to gather up his overly dramatic wife.


	9. Threads So Fine

Standing on the wharf back in Port Royal, James watched the berthing of the captured ships and conveyance of prisoners to the fort. It had not taken long to round them up; the cowering pirates had mostly thrown down their weapons after the death of their captain. And with the Navy men loaded onto the Port Royal “fleet,” there were more than enough guards around.

Once outside the cove, James had handed off the trunks of promised gold to the new privateers Jack had recruited. It was money well-earned and well-spent, in the commodore’s opinion. Especially since their efforts had been successful.

He’d stood on the wheel deck of the _Black Pearl_ and watched as the privateers sailed away, leaving Captain Jack Sparrow’s vessel alone with seven ships of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. That left the governor, Will, and Elizabeth on the galleon named the _Endeavour_ , and Jack’s crew returned to the _Black Pearl_ , including Anamaria, who lamented the loss of yet another ship she thought should have been hers.

They’d arrived at Port Royal just at the cusp of dawn after sailing back through the dark moonless night. After those mind-numbing kisses, Jack had left James to his scrambled thoughts; it had taken James some time to get his breath and calm his pulse, much less string together coherent ideas.

He couldn’t think of a time he’d been more aroused.

“James?”

The commodore stiffened instinctively, though he relaxed once his mind told him it was a friend. “Are you well, Thomas?”

Lieutenant Gillette nodded, stopping at his side, George Groves joining him. “We are. But you’re injured, James. You should have your leg seen to.”

James shook his head, though he smiled. “I’m fine, Thomas. It looks much worse than it is.”

George looked at him speculatively. “You’re waiting for someone,” he said baldly.

James raised an eyebrow. “You can tell?” he asked as Thomas jabbed George in the ribs.

But both lieutenants nodded. James shook his head. “No. Just seeing to my duty, as should both of you,” he chastised gently.

Thomas sighed and George nodded, and they moved off to manage the crews under James’s watchful purview.

Taking a calming breath, James refocused his eyes on the anchored Endeavour and the small boat rowing away from her to convey the puffed and apologetic admiral onto dry land to stay with Governor Swann. God bless Weatherby, James reflected. The commodore could not imagine hosting that peacock in his house.

Being rid of that threat had helped James relax just as much as being back in Port Royal.

“James, I swear, a more bull-headed man I’ve never met.”

“Elizabeth!” Both Will and James chorused, one in disbelief, one in long-suffering aggravation.

“He’s injured, Will, and look at him, standing here trying to be a commodore when he should be a doctor’s patient,” Elizabeth insisted.

“Mrs. Turner,” James said firmly, communicating his intention not to be swayed, “I am fit enough to see to my duties.” His face softened. “I would not ignore them now that they are well assured.”

Will nodded in understanding over Elizabeth’s shoulder as she frowned. “But—” she started.

“Elizabeth, we need to get to your father’s, he’ll need you to serve as hostess since the admiral is there,” Will reminded.

“Men,” Elizabeth muttered as she stalked by. Will stopped long enough to clap James on the shoulder, and then he hustled his wife off before she could refocus on the commodore.

James shook his head and turned back to the cove, rubbing his hand over his eyes. The dawn that morn was exquisite, slightly orange and mostly warm gold, not a trace of red to be seen. It would be a beautiful day, he mused, feeling a tinge of the rays upon his bared skin. He was happy to have lived to see it. So much could have gone wrong. So much. Yet they emerged not only victorious, but redeemed.

He sighed, bone-tired and hurting. But the slide of his thoughts past those kisses had been more than enough to send a torrent of heat flooding into him. Unfortunately, it exacerbated the throb in his leg, which helped douse any further bodily reaction.

And if, during the course of his management of the port, he leaned rather heavily on a wooden pylon, no one left here would make mention of it.

“Jamie, you should be off that leg.”

Well, almost no one.

James turned a tolerant gaze onto the pir— _privateer_. He sighed silently. Eventually he’d make up his mind about which appellation to use.

“I am quite well here, Jack,” James protested mildly.

“Ah,” Jack answered, the syllable chock full of meaning. “And that would be why your bandage is soaked through now, wouldn’t it.”

Looking down at his wounded thigh, which was indeed paining him, James grimaced.

“Come now, Jamie, it seems I’ll be caring for you yet again,” Jack said, a smiling hovering on his lips.

“Again?” James echoed, having giving up on breaking the habit of repeating some of Jack’s more frustrating answers. “What makes you think I’ll agree when I have already rebuffed not only George and Thomas, but the whirlwind Mrs. Turner?”

Jack stuck his thumbs in his belt. “I’ve more tricks up my sleeve than even Elizabeth’s considerable arsenal,” he said surely.

“Have you, then,” James said drolly. “I cannot imagine what you would think you could say to convince me to endure your tender mercies.” Though James withheld his smile, he could not stop the sparkle in his eyes as he watched his pirate.

“Is it a dare, then?” Jack asked brightly.

“Lord preserve us,” James muttered. “A dare. Very well. What are the stakes?” He knew he should know better than this, to gamble with Captain Jack Sparrow.

“Hmm. Perhaps the location of your recuperation?” Jack proposed.

“Location? You mean the _Black Pearl_ as opposed to my home?”

Jack’s nose turned up. “House,” he corrected in a mutter.

“House,” James murmured in agreement.

“Aye, that’s the wager,” the pirate confirmed.

“Very well. So now, Jack, as I was saying, what makes you think I’ll agree when I have already rebuffed not only George and Thomas, but Elizabeth as well?”

Jack very carefully tipped his head, studying the set of James’s jaw, before taking the two steps to place himself within reach of James’s arms while the commodore watched carefully. Jack raised his chin to meet James’s eyes before he spoke.

“Please?”

James lost his breath as he felt his heart skip a beat, and at that moment, he couldn’t have said whether his injury still pained him. His lips compressed as he shook his head ever so slightly in resignation. “Damn you,” he breathed, not at all harshly. He could find no way whatsoever to protest, and James knew he in no way wished to.

Jack’s smile was small and affectionate with no trace of mirth or triumph in it. He laid a hand upon James’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Come along then, Jamie.” He slowly herded the limping commodore along the docks toward a boat to row them out to the _Black Pearl_.

They passed George and Thomas along the way, both of whom smartly tipped their hats and kept to their jobs of overseeing the securing of the many ships about the cove. But they did watch as James accompanied Jack without objection, and with a glance to each other, they agreed to keep to the Navy’s work in the commodore’s absence, as much as they agreed not to reveal James’s whereabouts until he himself chose to do such.

The more James moved and attempted not to limp, the more his leg ached, occasionally reminding him with an acute, sharp sensation similar to the action that caused the wound in the first place. When he wavered just before climbing down into the small boat, he did not mention it when Jack placed a cautioning hand on his back.

==

Once aboard ship, Jack pointed toward the captain’s cabin imperiously, and James barely cracked a smile as he went obediently, more than ready to sit down. Jack would join him after seeing to the ship sailing out of the cove to anchor further out in the sea.

Warm inside the protection of the _Black Pearl_ , the cabin was shadowy despite the bright morning sunlight outside, and the warmth invaded James and relaxed him. Despite wanting to sit, he stood just inside the doors, watching Jack moved gracefully over the slightly tipping deck as the crew pulled up the anchor and set the ship sailing for the open sea.

Leaning his head against the edge of the wooden door, James watched Jack, really seeing him in his element. In his home, his true home. He recalled Jack’s words about setting foot on dry land more often. A visit, perhaps, but no extended stay, for sure. Dirt and stone were not made to support Jack Sparrow.

James felt a slight twinge of melancholy. Were that he was so free to sail the sea and feel the wind upon his face day in and day out. Yes, he’d nearly been reduced to that by the admiral’s visit and the subsequent pirate attack, but he’d much rather have the choice himself.

So he would always know it had been _his_ choice, and no one else’s.

 _His_ choice to pursue a new sort of life, one possibly… hopefully… including a certain dashing pirate.

How astounding, James mused, that in just over two years of time past, and most likely only a bare month or two of actual time spent together, he and Jack would forge such an unlikely camaraderie, one built upon respect, admiration and a perplexing attraction James found himself craving more and more.

Now, if only he could discern a way to meld both his own lives together into one that might complement Jack’s.

While two years ago, or even one, James would have considered Jack’s actions on his behalf incomprehensible, now he knew better. Now he more than suspected the drive behind Jack’s decisions. James sighed as he watched Jack move gracefully across the deck, gliding to a stop when he saw James watching him.

Jack cocked his head to one side, asking silently. James gave the slightest of shakes of his head. Jack looked the commodore up and down before gesturing for James to go inside with one bob, bounce, and tinkle of his head.

James’s lips twitched, and he turned to disappear inside, unknowingly leaving Jack to stare after him, an open, yearning want upon his face.

Wandering the room for a bit, James finally sat down to take the pressure off his aching leg. He shook his head. Being around Jack had made him fanciful, even in his thoughts. He wondered what would happen next—how the next step would progress. Would it be more of the deep kisses and flaring passion? Would it be yet another retreat into ill-concealed attraction without actions or words? Or would it be those missing, afeared words, phrases that might set their intentions in stone or dash their hearts upon the cliffs?

Did he love Jack Sparrow?

The doors creaked slightly open and Jack stepped inside, carrying a waterskin and bowl of fruit and jerky, all of which he set aside after closing the doors firmly. He stopped aside James, not speaking until he apparently remembered he had something to say.

“That leg needs tending, Jamie,” Jack said. “You need to rest,” he added with a wag of his finger. Despite the forced, light manner, to James, Jack seemed subdued. Not downtrodden, but certainly of lower energy than usual.

“You need to rest, as well,” James said.

“Aye,” Jack agreed softly, holding out his hands to help James stand. “Let’s get you fixed up first.” He flashed one of his smiles, and James reflexively smiled in return as Jack led him across the room.

James stood next to the bunk as Jack unbuckled his belt for him, and the pirate helped him out of his jacket. James stood still and watched Jack solemnly as Jack carefully untied the laces on James’s shirt and carefully pulled it over James’s head.

There’d been nothing so intimate in James’s life as Jack standing so close as to breathe James’s own breath while unfastening James’s trousers with nimble fingers, very deliberately not meeting James’s eyes. James inhaled slowly and swallowed as Jack went down on one knee, eased the trousers over James’s hips, and pulled them down his thighs, using both hands to carefully peel the stiff, bloodied leather and the soft, shredded cotton of his smallclothes free of the wound. James winced despite Jack’s gentle ministrations, and the silence roared in his ears when Jack tipped his head back to look up at James from his knees, his hands surrounding James’s calf.

As he met dark eyes with his own, James felt caught in a web of the finest threads, soft and warm, surrounding the two of them in a silken cocoon all of their own. The threads, tiny and nearly invisible, were oddly incandescent to his eyes. He could see them binding he and Jack together, gossamer threads of emotion and respect, of caring and commitment. The threads had drawn them inexorably together, as strong as the fury of the sea or the anger of the wind despite their fragile nature.

This was the connection between them, something barely there, but undeniable as the tide that tossed them in life’s grand adventure.

Jack stood and fetched back a clean cloth and bowl of water. Urging James to sit on the edge of the bed, he cautiously wet the scabbed slice enough to pull the cotton free, leaving it to stretch across James’s thighs and groin. Over and over Jack wet the cloth and squeezed water over the wound, washing it free of dirt and wiping away the dried blood to leave irritated, but clean flesh.

Another trip to a cabinet, and Jack came back with a length of clean cotton to wrap around James’s thigh after treating it with a healing cream that eased the sting of the sliced skin exposed to air.

Without speaking, Jack urged James to scoot back onto the bed and take his ease in the slightly scratchy blankets. James was more than comfortable in only the brief shorts he now wore, and he shifted enough to rest on his back and settle his leg with a minimum of pain.

Through hooded eyes, James watched Jack clean up the supplies he’d used and then putter about the cabin, touching something and putting it back down, looking at something and looking away, seemingly unable to stop moving.

“Jack.”

The pirate answered with a distracted “Hmmm?” as he started digging through a pile of maps, so obviously searching for nothing.

“Jack,” James repeated, a little more softly.

Jack dragged his eyes to look over at James; James could see the worry and nerves in those dark orbs and the hunch of Jack’s shoulders. With surety, James stretched his hand out across the mussed blankets.

“Come to bed.”

The pirate blinked and stared.

James raised a brow. “I shall never sleep with you fluttering around so noisily,” he teased gently. Why in the world Jack Sparrow was nervous, he could not imagine. But there it was, clear as the blue sky on a sunny day.

Jack peered at him for a long, long moment, and James began to fear Jack would demur. Then ever so slowly Jack’s hands moved to his belt and unbuckled it. He set it and the sash aside, and shrugged out of the worn Navy jacket. He sat long enough to take off his boots, and when he stood in the shadows that met the hazy sunrays cutting through the wavy glass windows, his hand pulled gently at the headscarf James had never seen Jack without. The long mane, half-braided, spilled forward about Jack’s face and shoulders, blocking the light from his features.

James watched unmoving as Jack stepped to the bed barefoot, his fingers untying the laces of his loose shirt until it hung totally free, revealing a wiry body with ropy muscles, dark and tanned. James had seen Jack bare-chested before, on that long-ago stolen day on the _Black Pearl_ , but this sight of Jack so quiet and so close was totally different.

There was no scrap of extra meat on Jack’s body, yet he wasn’t painfully thin. More ripcord to James’s own willowy build. Aware of his own share of ship-built muscles, James could well appreciate the spill of illumination over Jack’s silently prowling body.

Letting the shirt slide from his shoulders to pool on the floor, Jack sat on the edge of the bunk, dressed only in his trousers. They were both in the shadows now; the dim light reflected more from James’s paler skin.

Jack sat still at James’s side for uncounted minutes as they just watched one another. James felt no need to speak. They were here together, and it was enough. He felt at peace, a sensation he had somehow associated with this infuriating man who so eclipsed his waking thoughts.

Finally Jack moved, pulling his legs up onto the bed and carefully moving to curl on his side within the curve of James’s arm. As James closed that arm around Jack’s shoulder, Jack laid his head gently upon James’s shoulder, pillowing his cheek just short of under James’s chin. James could feel the spill of roughened hair over his collarbone and against his neck; it prickled, just like Jack’s goatee against the soft skin of his under arm.

Their breathing aligned as the quiet lengthened, barely disturbed by the creak and moan of the ship and the splashing of the sea against the hull, sounds as common to them both as their own breathing. James was drowsing when he felt Jack’s hand coast over his waist to cover James’s free hand. James opened his sleepy eyes to see dust motes dancing and spinning and floating like flecks of flashing, shining bronze in the golden light, and he slowly laced their fingers together and let their combined hands lie still, clasped against his belly.

James turned his chin gently to touch Jack’s forehead and closed his eyes, allowing the fine threads to comfort him and the _Black Pearl_ to rock him to sleep.


	10. A Fine Match

James’s eyes opened to peer into hazy dimness, the sunrays he remembered from before now gone into the sea as the sun dipped below the horizon. Yet he was still warm, still comfortable, despite lying atop the blankets nearly nude, propped up slightly against a stack of pillows.

He was warm, as was the body the curled against him.

Turning his chin, James looked down to see a dark head of braids pillowed upon his chest, framing a well-known face in repose. Somehow while sleeping Jack had shifted closer against James’s side and settled his cheek upon James’s chest.

Just over his heart.

James took his time studying Jack as he’d never had the luxury before. When awake, the pirate was always in motion, a spinning tornado of energy twitching this way and that. The commodore had always imagined that in rest Jack would toss and turn, just as the _Black Pearl_ did upon a stormy sea.

But no, Jack slept still and quiet, his chest rising and falling evenly, arm extended over James's chest, his right hand curled about James’s upper left arm. James was struck with the thought that Jack had been afraid he would move away.

Jack’s full lips were barely parted, and his face was softer, flushed in sleep, the crinkles about his eyes from incessant smiling still visible. It was amazing, a vision burning itself into James’s mind. It was almost like holding a firefly in a jar.

James moved and slid his right hand into the dark hair that spilled over his chest, surprised to find it was soft underneath the braids despite its exposure to the elements. The hat, surely, and the scarf besides sheltered it. The braids, even, absorbing the extent of the damage. Not that James believed Jack was really that vain, as to take such careful measures with his hair, of all things. A flouncing clown, he could be, if Jack took it in mind to appear so. But James was no longer fooled.

Beneath the sun-grilled skin and leather, under the tricorn hat and scarf, beyond the tattoos and brand, and inside a pirate made larger-than-life, there resided a man, a simple man with a heart that could be turned unto others just as anyone else’s.

Just as James’s own.

Fingers burrowing into the warm mane, James gave into the urge to pet. His left hand rose as well, careful not to shake Jack's hand free, and he trailed his fingers from Jack’s shoulder to his elbow, lightly tracing the ink-marked skin. Each picture was a story, James was sure, a piece of the history of one Captain Jack Sparrow. It was a history he wanted to hear, from beginning to end and everywhere in between. To know how this man was formed, and how he made himself what he was.

James wanted to know what it was that made Jack so damn irresistible. His mouth quirked into a smile as he moved his fingers along Jack’s forearm. Apparently sensitive, Jack drew a deeper breath. James lifted his hand, not wanting to disturb his sleep, and Jack immediately went quiet, his breathing again even. James moved his hand under Jack’s arm to form an embrace.

What now?

James laid there a long time, mind whirling with causes and effects, trying not to worry, simply holding Jack long enough for his body to become accustomed to the pirate’s proximity, to communicate forcibly banked wants and purposely unacknowledged needs.

It was clear Jack desired him. But his actions implied a deeper want, one James felt that morning and saw in Jack’s eyes. It was a feeling James shared, as incredible as it seemed, and it very nearly scared him.

Without warning, Jack stirred. James let his fingers remain tangled in Jack’s hair as he tipped his chin to see the pirate’s face. Jack’s eyes fluttered open, and he remained still for a long moment before he raised his eyes to James’s face, where he met a darkened green gaze.

Jack suddenly lurched up and away, breaking the spell of warmth and security. His face was written with upset and no small amount of fear, both of which stymied the commodore. But before Jack could hastily crawl off the bed, James reached out and closed his hand about Jack’s wrist firmly.

Deep brown eyes flew to James’s face. James was startled. “Where are you going?” he asked shakily, his voice still thick with sleep.

Jack frowned slightly. A split second passed and that wide smile appeared. “A wicked man you are, Jamie, scaring me like that.” He poked James in the side, making him flinch.

“Wicked? Scaring you?” James objected.

“Aye. Thought you were a dream, I did,” Jack sniffed, fingers darting to dance on James’s ribs.

“I’m not sure I want to know why that would be wicked or frightening,” James muttered, letting go of Jack’s wrist and scooting away slightly to escape.

“’Tis not every pirate who wakes up with a commodore in his bed,” Jack went blithely on, his free hand flapping about before reaching again to tickle.

“I should hope not,” James said hurriedly, lightly slapping at Jack’s hand as the pirate ignored him.

“For I’m sure, such a fright would scare many a pirate into becoming blacksmiths,” Jack said with surety, his eyes locking upon James as he extended his hand yet again.

James pressed his lips together and pushed himself to a sitting position, leaning against the wall at the head of the bed. “Blacksmiths,” he tried to agree warily.

The pirate peered down at him with narrowed eyes. “Perhaps milliners.”

James snorted, pulling the knee of his good leg to shield his ribs, just in case. “For so many pirates have experience sewing linen and lace,” James said drolly.

“Rightly so! We practice on the sails, you see,” Jack said, nodding, though he smiled evilly, dropping his hand to drum his fingers on his thigh.

“I’ve lost track of why my being in your bed is scary,” James admitted.

“And wicked,” Jack added.

“Wicked,” James echoed. “Do explain.”

“Laying here in my bed, practically in your altogether,” Jack said, waggling his brows.

James laughed aloud. “And that is wicked?”

“Indeed so,” Jack confirmed, reaching to trail a single finger from James’s knee down the front of his lower leg to his ankle. “A wicked temptation.” James bit back the gasp as Jack’s fingers brushing the sensitive side of his foot, garnering Jack’s attention. “And what was that, Commodore?” the pirate asked.

“James,” James corrected out of habit, watching Jack’s hand.

“Aye. Jamie.” Jack’s fingers waggled.

James’s eyes narrowed as he glanced up at the pirate. “Think you I intend to be a temptation?”

Jack sobered, letting his hand fall to the sheets. He tipped his head to one side as he looked over James, sending the braid sprawling over his shoulder and chest. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “At times I believe so, and others…” He shrugged slightly.

“Yet you believe so. You’re not at all retiring compared to myself,” James observed, relaxing now that Jack’s silent attacks had ceased.

“Retiring? I object!”

“Of course you do,” James murmured under his breath.

“Captain Jack Sparrow is never retiring, neither in attitude nor in career,” Jack announced.

“Planning to sail the seas until the fishes get you?” James asked drolly.

“It will be Davy Jones’s locker for me,” Jack confirmed. “Though that day is long, long away, if I have my choice.”

“I agree with that,” James said quietly.

The pirate stopped mid-blather and looked down at James. “Agree?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“That you should be around a long, long time,” James said, amused that he had Jack repeating him for once.

“I should?” Jack asked, looking surprised.

“You should,” James confirmed.

Jack screwed up his face. “Well. Of course I should.”

“Of course,” James humored.

“What was I saying?” Jack said after a moment’s pause.

James’s lips twitched. “I’m wicked.”

“Ah! Yes. Wicked you are, in thought, word, and deed,” Jack said with a nod. He purposefully moved his hand to slide his fingers along James’s instep, garnering a soft squawk as James jerked his foot away.

“And just how, pray tell, would you know that I am wicked in thought?” James asked, giving Jack a warning look.

“Come up with all those wicked words and deeds, I’d rightly say,” Jack explained piously, hand hovering as he looked James up and down.

“Such as?”

“Such as.” Jack’s eyes snapped back up to James’s face.

“Yes, such as,” James prompted.

Jack gave him a merry smile. “I’m sure you are. I’ve seen and heard it.” He feinted, and his wrist flipped so he could tickle behind James’s knee.

James gasped, pulled both his legs to the side, yanked the covers over them, and looked at Jack obstinately. “Such as?” James asked.

“Well, you see, I can think of several times,” Jack hedged, eyes narrowing as he considered this new challenge.

“So I am wicked and scary, and I am in your bed. Whatever will you do?” James asked smugly, tucking the covers in tight about his good leg, secure in the thought that Jack would not jar his wounded limb.

Jack looked at him suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, surely if I’m so frightening, you would expel me from said bed, and I’ve only these briefs to wear on deck,” James posed.

Jack’s eyes widened comically. “You aren’t that frightening,” he assured James hurriedly.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m quite sure,” Jack answered.

“A commodore sleeping in a pirate’s bed?”

“But there’s no commodore here,” Jack said slyly as he got to his hands and knees and started crawling up the bed.

James eyed him nervously. “No, there is not.”

“Just James in my bed,” Jack declared.

“Yes,” James agreed.

Jack slowly pulled his eyes back to James, the playfulness gone. “Just Jamie,” he said quietly, coming to a stop right at the commodore’s side. James wondered what that extra hint of something in Jack’s eyes meant.

“So what will you do?” James asked.

“Do?” Jack said slowly, his attention fully on James.

“Yes. Do. With Just Jamie in your bed,” James asked.

Jack paused, looking strangely unsure, his hands folded in his lap. James was mystified. “Where is that vaunted confidence?” James asked, curling his hand about Jack’s wrist so his thumb brushed over Jack’s pulse point softly. Jack had been babbling and teasing him for nigh ten minutes.

Jack’s head tilted to one side. “It sometimes seems to take flight from me when you are about,” he admitted quietly.

“Why?” James asked, curious. “Do you fear I will mock you?” Jack shrugged one shoulder. “Jack,” James continued. “I would not be here but for my decision to be.”

“’Twas upon a dare,” Jack said, wagging a finger at him.

“Jack,” James interrupted firmly. “I am here because I want to be, and that’s that.”

The pirate gazed at him a long time. “Ah, Jamie,” he finally whispered. “I’ve wanted you here so long I can barely believe it true.”

James released Jack’s wrist. “How long?”

Jack smile ruefully. “Since I kidnapped you here before, with William’s assistance.”

Surprised, James sat up enough for the sheets to fall from his chest to pool about his waist. “So long? Nearly a year ago.”

“Nearly,” Jack agreed, his eyes skittering over James’s body.

“I did not know,” James said. “I had no idea.”

Jack nodded. “I know it. And I wanted it that way. Having you as a comrade was my first goal, you see, to make visits to Port Royal more palatable. Yet then, after one, simple day…”

“You saw differently.”

“Yes.”

“That day here on the _Black Pearl_.”

“Aye. I can still see you here,” Jack said, his voice low and warm. “Sometimes I look over my shoulder and see you out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn, you’re gone.”

“I treasure that day, Jack. I didn’t know then how much, but time made it clear,” James said awkwardly. “’Twas George and Thomas who brought it to light.”

Jack smiled. “Those two.” He shook his head, sending baubles to tinkling.

“Yes,” James agreed, smiling as well. “They searched for me that day, until Elizabeth told them I was off ‘visiting a friend’. But I found out while on that godforsaken cove that they believed I had found someone that day.”

“Found someone,” Jack murmured.

James nodded. “Someone who accepted me as I am, who helped relieve the stress and weights of duty. Someone who put a smile on my face.” James paused. “Someone who made me feel alive,” he murmured.

Jack smiled slowly, seductively, alluringly. “I would be those things to you, if only you would allow it. Never have a found another to be a better match to meself.” James had no idea how to answer that, and in the meanwhile, Jack lifted on hand to cup James’s cheek, turned his chin, and leaned forward to kiss him.

James’s lips trembled under his, and Jack lifted his other hand to sink into James’s hair as he kept kissing him, soft, short kisses, meant to put the commodore at ease. James brought shaky hands to Jack’s shoulders as he returned Jack’s attentions, and it was long, warm moments of similar kisses before their mouths parted.

“Ah, Jamie, truly you are a wicked man, can you not see it? You’ve totally snared my attention.” Jack murmured.

“And how is that?” James asked, his voice shaky.

“You’ve captivated me,” Jack breathed. “I didn’t expect it.”

James’s eyes widened. “And you think I did?”

Jack smiled. “Well, you are the all-knowing commodore,” he said as he gently bumped their foreheads together.

“I fear I am rather… clueless, Jack. All I know is you snuck into my life, turned it upside down, and made a place for yourself. And now…”

“Now?” Jack prompted.

“I would not see you gone,” James admitted in practically a whisper.

Jack hummed happily and dropped a kiss upon James’s lips. He shifted to set one hand on the bed on the other side of James’s legs, neatly placing himself across James’s lap. “I suppose that depends on you, now, Commodore. What do you want?” he asked.

A sigh shuddered out of James sighed. “You,” he breathed.

Jack gasped slightly and wavered. “I think I may be a wee bit light-headed,” he croaked, holding onto James’s shoulders like he’d never let go.

James pulled back in surprise only to see Jack’s smirk and wink. Pressing his lips together hard, James thumped the back of his hand against Jack’s chest. “Ow!” Jack protested, scooting back. “No call for that!”

“And you call me wicked!” James accused.

“Oh yes,” Jack drawled.

“I have never in my life been wicked,” James said petulantly.

Jack raised an eyebrow, challenged. “Might I remind you, dear Commodore, of a balmy night on a balcony where you licked your lips with this lovely tongue.” Jack reached to lightly slide his finger along James’s lower lip. “Right when you knew I could not respond.”

James had the good grace to look rueful. “Well. I wouldn’t exactly call that wicked.”

Both Jack’s brows flew up. “I’d hate to see what you do call wicked then.” He abruptly shook himself. “On second thought…”

James thumped Jack on the chest again, and Jack winced. Without warning he moved nimbly and threw his leg over James’s to straddle his thigh, carefully avoiding the wounded leg, and he grabbed at both James’s wrist to hold him still. “There now, enough abuse of the pirate.”

“Abuse?” James asked incredulously. “Abuse? What about commodore abuse, just before?” he asked, referring to the tickling.

Jack merely smiled, affecting an innocent look. “You deserved it.”

“Deserved it?” James repeated, outraged.

“Aye, looking so warm and delectable in my bed,” Jack confirmed.

James narrowed his eyes. “I thought I looked wicked and scary,” he said flatly.

“And warm and delectable,” Jack repeated sensually as he leaned forward to kiss James, just below his ear.

The commodore swallowed hard, pulling at his wrists, trying halfheartedly to gain his freedom. “I must object.”

“Of course you must,” Jack agreed, moving to kiss in the same spot under James’s other ear. “You’re not wicked, you say.”

“Not wicked,” James said faintly.

“Not scary,” Jack continued, dragging his lips down the side of James’s neck.

“Not scary,” James repeated, jerking his arms in a token resistance.

“But you are warm,” Jack murmured before extending his tongue to lick about James’s Adam’s apple.

Shuddering, James had to admit that one was correct. He was flushed with warmth. “I suppose,” he whispered.

“And oh… so… delectable…” Jack breathed between kisses along James’s jaw.

James shaky breath was audible. “Jack.”

“Aye,” Jack said as he nipped at an earlobe.

James shivered bodily under the pirate’s weight. “You are a wicked, wicked man,” he stated with complete surety.

Jack leaned back, his lips curled into a knowing smile. “Pi- _rate_ ,” he cooed.

Was that a whimper that passed his lips? James thought in shock. From him, a commodore, a whimper? “Release my hands, please,” he asked. “I… I want…”

“Mmmm, what do you want, my handsome Jamie,” Jack drew out.

“I… I want to touch you,” James admitted tightly, his fingers flexing uncontrollably.

Heat flared in Jack’s eyes, and he lifted James’s hands to his lips to kiss them one by one before releasing James’s wrists.

“Thank you,” James breathed, settling his long-fingered hands on Jack’s chest, dragging his hands downward as he licked his lips.

Jack stared at him, mouth slightly open, and he arched into James’s hands.

James lurched to sit up as he curled his arms around Jack, and he claimed the pirate’s mouth in a torrid kiss. Jack’s hands flew to cup James’s face as their lips met and clashed, as their tongues stroked and tangled.

And Jack choked and gurgled as James’s fingers dug into his sides to tickle him within an inch of his life.

“Jamie!” Jack practically shrieked after tearing his mouth away. He flailed as James pushed and he fell backward, James’s wicked fingers attacking him the whole way down as he squirmed.

James grinned and laughed as he had Jack caught and shaking with laughter, periodic squeaks and squeals escaping him as he attempted to slither away from the commodore.

“Stop stop stop stop stop!” Jack begged, slapping at James’s hands.

“I think not, pirate,” James said gleefully.

Jack gulped and gasped before forcibly flopping to his belly and crawling hurriedly away to the footboard. When James shifted to reach for him, he squawked yet again before toppling over the end of the bed to thump to the floor.

Surprised, James carefully crawled to look over the edge to see Jack laying there on the floor, staring up at him mutinously.

“As I said,” Jack bit out, crossing his arms petulantly. “Wicked.”

A hearty laugh burbled out of James. “You deserved it.”

Jack harrumphed right there where he lay, before rolling to come up on his knees and shuffle over to steal a kiss. James smiled against the pirate’s lips.

“Ah, Jamie,” Jack said with a sigh. “You see what a fine match we are.”

“A pirate and a commodore?” James asked.

“Nay. Jack and Jamie,” Jack corrected. “And besides, I’m a _privateer_.”

“Hmmm. I thought you were _my_ pirate,” James drawled.

“Ah, rightly so, as it were,” Jack confirmed. “Sailing your seas, I am.”

James sobered slightly and sat sideways, straightening his aching leg to relieve the tension on the wound. “One of us at sea, and one tied to land. What sort of match is that?”

“A balanced one,” Jack said, and a hint of wonder appeared on his face. “You’re my anchor. You keep me still and safe in one place as I desire, yet you let me free when I need be.” His voice was somehow quietly amazed.

A firefly in a jar, James thought.

“I will not stifle you,” James said quietly. “I would not have you change, for then you would not be the irrepressible you.” He smiled crookedly.

On cue, those dark eyes lifted to his, betraying slight apprehension. James then realized in some shock that Jack feared he would change his mind, that the commodore would discard him somewhere along the sea lanes, acting as fickle as Calypso herself. But James had no idea how to reassure him when he could not reassure himself.

“I am your pirate, after all. Pirates are known for their unpredictability,” Jack said earnestly, hiding that flicker in his eyes.

“You’re not being so unpredictable now,” James murmured, reaching out to Jack.

Jack took James’s hand and half crawled to the end of the bed. “I’m not?” James shook his head. “Hmmm. I’ll have to change that, then.”

“Not on my account,” James assured him.

“All on your account,” Jack corrected. “If not, I fear you’ll slip away from boredom.”

“Boredom?” James repeated in disbelief. “About you?”

Jack nodded and pushed himself to his feet. James shifted backward as Jack settled a knee on the bed and started moving toward him until he crawled right up over James’s leg and again into his lap, right in the center of the bed.

“Real, real and in my hands, an emerald-eyed treasure,” Jack waxed rhapsodic between kisses, making James chuckle. “A beautiful, tall treasure,” the pirate drawled, his hand settling on James’s shoulder blade before coasting down his back.

“Hmmm,” James commented, allowing Jack to touch as he liked. And the pirate did, though slowly, exploring. “I thought I was wicked,” James reminded.

“Yes, a wicked temptation,” Jack agreed, his hand moving to James’s chest to map the muscles there. “Perhaps I shall be tempted beyond restraint.”

“Only perhaps?” James affected a disappointed moue.

“Certainly,” Jack said.

“Certainly only perhaps?”

“Only certainly,” Jack rasped before claiming James’s mouth, effectively shutting him up. The pirate’s hands slid down James’s back, tracing his spine and the rippling muscles there, and James sighed against the ravening mouth, sinking into the sensual storm that was Captain Jack Sparrow.

Jack’s hands roved over him, and James found he wanted to touch as well, so he lifted his hands to defined shoulders and dragged his hands down Jack’s back, mirroring the pirate’s touch. When he drew a haggard moan, James took it as approval and started exploring the expanse of flesh.

It was long minutes of heated kisses and cautious touches before their mouths parted. “I want to taste you all over,” Jack growled. James stiffened, surprised by the vehement declaration, and Jack’s touch turned reassuring. The pirate hummed against his lips. “But for now, I’d rather have more kisses,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around James and lowering him to the bed.

“Kisses,” James murmured, feeling the prickle of Jack’s goatee.

“Mmm. Kisses,” Jack purred, settling in the crook of James’s arm and bussing the corner of James’s mouth.

“I can do kisses,” James said thickly.

“Aye, you certainly can,” Jack agreed, and their mouths met again and again as dusk fell to cover them in shadows.

The passion between them roiled for some time before subsiding to a glow, and they finally lay in each other’s arms, exchanging sporadic kisses until they drifted to sleep. James’s last thoughts wondered how Jack knew him so, so well.


	11. A Fine Kettle of Fish

“My mind is quite set, Weatherby,” the admiral said.

“But Admiral, I really must protest,” Governor Swann said, following the Navy man out the double doors and down the stairs, a bit harried and his long wig bouncing. “Surely the commodore has well earned some time to recuperate from his injuries.”

“The man would appreciate a visit, I am sure, especially one from his commanding officer,” the admiral said, continuing down the steps, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Admiral Whelan, please let me reassure you,” the governor said as he stutter-stepped to walk alongside the portly man. “Commodore Norrington is almost surely at rest, especially this early in the morning. Wouldn’t you allow the man a pair of days to somewhat recover!”

Unfazed, Whelan stopped at the carriage. “Nonetheless, I must insist that I convey my delayed apologies. Although he was nigh unrecognizable, dressed up like some pirate—”

“ _Privateer_ ,” the governor corrected as they climbed into the carriage.

Whelan sniffed. “Privateer. A mess, traipsing about like some common scallywag—”

The governor was hard-pressed to stifle his snort, instead wrinkling his nose when the admiral peered at him suspiciously. “Ah, just so,” he murmured.

“Yes,” the admiral asserted, settling himself on the bench as the carriage lurched to a start at his direction. “That being beside the point, the man is quite the brilliant strategist, and I now can see how the reports of his ineptitude were quite incorrect. After all, pirates are quite the plague here, are they not? Yet under Norrington’s protection, Port Royal flourishes.”

“Ah…” Governor Swann said, his voice a bit strangled.

“Yes,” the admiral repeated. “A fine kettle of fish he has to deal with here. But obviously he has worked up a strong network of connections to be able to summon together such a force of the common people as rescued us.”

The governor’s face was by now quite red. He’d had to sign off to pay the privateers, of course, not that he would mention it now. Or ever. “Just so,” he said again weakly.

“So tell me about the esteemed commodore and how he secured the help of such a privateer as this Sparrow fellow I have heard tell of,” Whelan said.

Weatherby sighed and leaned back. “Well, it all started about two, two and a half years ago…”

==

“What do you mean, he’s not here?” the admiral puffed.

The commodore’s butler raised one brow and glanced to the governor. “He is not here, sir,” the man repeated.

“Then where is he? This is his home, is it not?” the admiral blustered before turning to the governor. “Weatherby, I thought you said the man would be here resting.”

“Indeed I would have thought so,” the governor hastened to assure him. “But perhaps he suspected visits such as this, not only from us but from the grateful residents of Port Royal, and so he retired to a quieter location?”

Whelan harrumphed. The butler tipped his head to one side before speaking. His voice was quietly respectful although it carried a note of expectance. “Perhaps, sir, you would allow the commodore the better part of a week to recover? He is quite exhausted after all the work he put into the plan.” The governor nodded enthusiastically, giving the man at the door a thankful smile.

“Be that as it may, I am resolved. Come, Weatherby. Where might the commodore be? The fort, perhaps?”

The admiral turned down the steps, leaving Governor Swann to nod to the butler and sigh before following.

==

“I do apologize, sir, but he’s not here,” Lieutenant Thomas Gillette said as he rose from James’s desk. He looked past Admiral Whelan to the governor with a questioning look on his face.

“The admiral wishes to convey his regards and offer an apology for his—”

“It was an accident, is all,” Whelan asserted briskly, and Governor Swann rolled his eyes.

The lieutenant’s lips twitched. “Of course, sir.”

“Do you know where the commodore might have taken himself to, Lieutenant?” the admiral posed.

“Ah, perhaps you might ask Mrs. Turner?” Thomas posed, shifting uncomfortably.

The governor swooped to the rescue. “Ah yes, Elizabeth. She and the commodore have many friends in common.” Thomas relaxed and gave the governor a pathetically grateful smile.

Whelan seemed pensive. “Ah yes, as you said, they almost married, isn’t that so?”

Now both Governor Swann and Lieutenant Gillette shuffled awkwardly. “Yes, Admiral,” Weatherby said. “Although, may I say, that’s quite in the past and they remain good friends.”

“Admiral, the commodore’s injury, though not severe, is quite painful. I am sure you could see clear to allow him some time to recover. Perhaps a week? His tasks were considerable in preparing for your arrival,” Thomas said.

“Considerable? I see,” the man answered. “A week,” he murmured. “Well, we’re off to see Mrs. Turner,” the admiral said, turning and marching out of the room as if dismissing Thomas’s suggestion out of hand.

“Governor—”

“It’s quite all right, my boy,” Weatherby said, smiling a bit and nodding before turning to follow a huffing, red-faced Whelan.

==

“Elizabeth isn’t here,” Will said. “She went to the market for fresh fruit for dessert tonight, she said, determined to pick it out herself.”

“Admiral,” the governor said, “the morning is gone on us. Perhaps we should allow the commodore some peace—”

“Nonsense, Weatherby, as I said, I will not be deterred.”

“Sirs,” Will injected, “have you asked Ja—”

“James’s lieutenants?” the governor asked, effectively cutting Will off. “Yes, we spoke with Lieutenant Gillette.” Will blinked at his father-in-law, who eyed him with a near-glare.

“Lieutenants? As in more than one?” the admiral asked.

“Lieutenant Groves, sir,” Will said slowly. “He’s probably at the docks.”

“Indeed,” Whelan said drily before sniffing. “Do you think your wife knows where the commodore took himself off to?”

Will’s brow furrowed and he looked to Weatherby, who was standing behind the admiral shaking his head quite certainly. “Ah, no, I’m sorry, sir.”

“I must say, Weatherby, I am quite put out. The man has responsibilities here, and he’s disappeared!”

“Admiral,” Governor Swann said persuasively. “Please remember how hard the commodore worked in your name.”

“Oh yes,” Will added, finally getting with the program. “Weeks of planning, day and night. I don’t know how he stood up straight these past several days. Truly exhausted.”

“There,” the governor said. “You see? No dereliction of duty at all.”

The admiral still looked put out, and he turned his annoyed gaze upon Will. “Weeks of planning?”

Will nodded earnestly. “I cannot think of a better reward for the commodore than some time off to rest and recuperate. I would think at least…” He glanced to the governor, who exaggeratedly mouthed a word. “A fortnight.”

“A fortnight?” Whelan looked speculative. He sighed. “We shall make one more stop at the docks, Weatherby, and question this Lieutenant Groves.”

The governor covered his eyes, pained. “Thank you, Will,” he said as the admiral turned sharply and left the house. “He’s being…”

“Insufferable,” Will said in disgust.

“Yes,” Weatherby agreed. He pinned Will with a gaze. “James is not ashore, is he?”

Will pressed his lips together. “I truly do not know. But…”

The governor nodded. “I know, son,” he murmured. “Even I have eyes, and for a friend such as James, I can see how he is happier than ever.”

Will brightened considerably. “I had hoped you would understand. They’re an odd couple, for sure…”

Weatherby smiled slightly and raised his eyes to heaven. “They certainly deserve each other,” he muttered as he trotted off after the admiral, leaving a grinning Will behind.

==

George Groves narrowed his eyes in the bright sun and peered at the two sweating, red-faced men. “You’ve lost the commodore, you say?”

“Lieutenant,” Admiral Whelan said, his voice turning painfully squeakish. “He’s lost himself. We had nothing to do with it.”

George just stared at him before turning his attention to the governor, who shook his head tiredly. The Navy man chose to speak again after straightening his crisp blue jacket. “Well, sir, the man has been laboring on your behalf for quite some time. A work horse, he is, irrepressible in fulfilling his duties.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard,” the admiral said, drooping a bit. “Well, it seems all conspires against us. I shall have to postpone my regards until tomorrow.”

“If I may be so bold, sir,” George said firmly. “The commodore has toiled ceaselessly for the King for many, many years now, and I have never known him to take respite beyond a single day. I would sincerely hope the crown and the Navy would show their appreciation appropriately.”

“And just what, pray tell, would you consider appropriate?” Whelan asked, finally bowing to the heat and fanning himself with a handkerchief dug out from a pocket.

The lieutenant considered for a long moment, and movement caught his eye; the governor was gesturing and mouthing words. “At least a fortnight and a half,” George said firmly. “For all the man has been devoted to the Navy his whole life, twenty days is nothing.”

The admiral grimaced. “Weatherby, can Port Royal and its waters survive without the commodore’s attentions?”

“Admiral, let me assure you. Thanks to commodore’s efforts, pirates know well enough to steer clear of Port Royal,” Governor Swann said. “And Lieutenants Groves and Gillette can quite handle the fort and its operations.”

Admiral Whelan started to smile. “If you’re sure.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure,” the governor murmured, peering at Whelan as if he could hardly believe this man’s behavior.

“Then I have a splendid idea. On behalf of the crown and its constituents, I want to convey a medal of honor upon the commodore, and as a gesture of thanks, on behalf of the King, I shall offer him the singular award of thirty days’ time away from his duties, with our blessing,” the admiral said brightly. “Isn’t it a wonderful idea? I am sure he will appreciate it.”

The governor was nonplussed. “A wonderful idea,” he responded flatly. George looked at the admiral as if he’d gone mad.

“And now we’re ready for lunch. You’ll convey my announcement and respects to the commodore, won’t you, Lieutenant?”

“Absolutely, sir,” George said smartly.

“If I may suggest, Admiral, the Widow Whitehead has invited us for lunch, and we should be on our way,” the governor said, almost desperately. “We’ll be late as it is.”

“It sounds wonderful, Weatherby.” Admiral Whelan glanced to George. “Carry on, Lieutenant.” And he took himself off to the carriage.

“Tell James he owes me,” the governor muttered to George before following the stuffed peacock. George didn’t even try to hide his smile.

==

Jack whistled as he stood at the wheel of the _Black Pearl_ , lazily allowing her to sail herself over the lovely waves under the sun. The ship moved along the coast of Jamaica not too far from Port Royal. And as much as he detested it, they were moving toward Port Royal.

Toward James’s life on shore, while he himself would continue to sail the blue sea, free and unfettered. Jack sighed, fiddling with the end of his beaded blue sash. But for the invisible threads about his heart. He turned up his nose. However he’d gotten himself in this state and however uncomfortable it left him from time to time, he need only think of his place in James’s arms and any doubts fled. How utterly odd. How perfectly Jack Sparrow.

“Maudlin. Turned me maudlin, he has. I’ve always been dramatic, yes,” Jack smiled rakishly and threw back his shoulders. “A flair for life and love and rum.” Then his shoulders sagged a bit. “But now I’m maudlin when apart from him, even so short a distance. I wonder if I should be worried,” he mused as he squinted toward shore. He muttered a bit further under his breath until a flash of color distracted him.

“Ah, Mr. Cotton’s parrot, returned from the mainland I see,” Jack greeted as the bird landed on the rigging.

“Message from shore,” the parrot squawked. “Message from shore.”

“Good job then,” Jack complimented as he left the wheel and untied the small scroll from the parrot’s leg. “Tell cook to give you some extra special treats.”

“Parrot wanna cracker!” it squealed before taking off again.

Jack shook his head, perplexed at the bird, and then dismissed it. He carefully unrolled the paper, and as he read, the smile on his face grew and grew.

When he looked up, his eyes sparkled gaily. “Post the sails, we’re off to sea!” he bellowed, hauling on the wheel to turn the _Black Pearl_ toward open water. The crew started to scurry, calling out orders and recognitions as the ship tacked against the wind.

“With the commodore still aboard?” Gibbs asked from the lower deck where he was mending sail.

“Quite so, Mister Gibbs. The commodore will be enjoying an extended vacation with us while he recuperates,” Jack said gaily, tossing his head in the breeze and sending the tiny braids over his shoulder.

Gibbs just smiled. “It will be fine to have him aboard, Jack.”

“Aye, it will,” Jack replied. “It surely will.”

“Perhaps you might ought to let him know?” Gibbs posed, amused.

“Know?”

“That’s he’s staying with us? As he said at dinner last night, he expects to be back on shore for lunch today, and the sun is already high in the sky,” Gibbs reminded.

“Yes! I ought to tell him. Take the wheel. I’ll be in my cabin,” Jack said, flouncing across the deck, the paper rolling between his fingers as he took himself happily off to share the news with James.

The commodore was in the cabin at the table, writing out letters of commendation for his men. His leg, well on its way to healing after two days, was extended comfortably, and he lounged in borrowed clothes of plain sun-bleached cotton from Jack’s extensive wardrobe. He jumped a bit when the doors flew open and crashed against the wall.

“Jamie, I have news!”

James raised an eyebrow and tucked a loose lock of hair behind one ear. “Good news or bad news?”

“Oh, good news. The best of news!” Jack sang as he closed the doors.

James smiled at Jack’s enthusiasm and pushed back the papers. “Then by all means, share.” He couldn’t help but smile. Jack’s good humor was irresistible.

Jack pranced over to the table and perched on the edge right next to James. “You’re all mine, commodore. I’m not letting you out of my sight for some time to come,” he said smugly.

James blinked as a hot rush of arousal washed through him. He’d never imagined that such possessive words would appeal to him. “Is that so?”

“Ah yes,” Jack said with relish, holding up the scroll for James.

The commodore took it and read it, his eyes growing larger as he went. “Thirty days?”

“A month! An entire month to spend with me upon the sea!” Jack crowed.

“A month?” James repeated, dazed.

“An entire month,” Jack repeated, but his happiness dimmed when he saw James’s confusion. “Jamie? Aren’t you pleased?”

“The admiral is granting me thirty days leave,” James said distantly. “I’m… not quite sure what to think.”

“Don’t borrow trouble, Jamie,” Jack said, clasping the other man’s shoulder. “’Tis no more than a show of appreciation. And possibly guilt, as the man attacked his rescuer.” He frowned, remembering.

“I…” James looked at Jack. “I’ve not taken a day of leave since…”

“Since coming to the _Black Pearl_ with me that one day,” Jack prompted.

“Yes.”

Jack tipped his head, his face reflecting growing worry. “Jamie? Am I mistaken? Would you rather return to Port Royal?” he asked reluctantly.

James continued to gaze at the pirate. Yes, pirate, he affirmed to himself. His pirate. “There is nowhere I would rather be than here,” he said quietly. He felt the truth of it from the tip top of his head to the lowest bits of his toes.

“Ah, my Jamie,” Jack said softly, rubbing the backs of his knuckles along James’s cheek. “You could sway me to anything when you talk like that.”

James slowly smiled, pushing a bit back from the table. “Anything?”

Jack was intent. “Anything,” he echoed.

“Tell me, then,” James said persuasively. “Is there anywhere you would rather be?” He wanted to know; he wanted to lay the last of his nerves to rest before they embarked upon this journey. Jack would spend thirty days with Just Jamie, nary a commodore in sight. And while James was suddenly eager to accept the boon and sail away, he needed to know for sure.

“Merely out upon the sea with moonlight and thee,” Jack said fancifully without pause.

James smiled and shook his head. “Who would have thought Captain Jack Sparrow would be so easy to please?”

The pirate waggled his eyebrows. “You’ve no idea, luv.”

Quirking an eyebrow in return, James suppressed a smile. “Haven’t I?”

“I’ll finally be making a pirate of you!” Jack said happily, practically bouncing in place, setting all his baubles to jingling.

James’s eyes widened for a moment before he sighed and shrugged. “All right.”

Jack froze utterly still. “All right? You aren’t going to object?”

James, obviously amused, crossed his arms and watched the other man. “I’ll be aboard your pirate ship for a month. I do not believe a man with even such fortitude as I can resist your wiles for so long when you bring them to bear.”

Jack narrowed his eyes as he worked his way through James’s statement, and then he perked up. “So I’m wily, am I?”

“Quite,” James muttered.

Jack chuckled. “It won’t be difficult to make a proper pirate of you.”

“Perhaps this opportunity will satisfy you,” James mentioned.

Jack looked thoughtful for a moment, rubbing his goatee with his thumb. “Perhaps,” he answered doubtfully.

James chuckled and pushed back from the table, standing carefully. “So, Captain, what are your orders?” he asked with a straight face, though his eyes twinkled.

“Calling me ‘Captain’ now, are you?” Jack asked, crossing his arms and tilting his head back enough to see the commodore’s face.

James made a production of looking about them in the cabin. “I see no one here besides you but a common deckhand, so, yes.”

“There’s nothing common about ye, my Jamie,” Jack said with a smile.

James didn’t try to hide his grin as he poked Jack’s side while walking carefully toward the door. “Just you remember that, you scallywag.”

“Such words of adoration warm me cockles… of my heart,” Jack said facetiously as he followed James out on deck.

The commodore looked over his shoulder at Jack, acknowledging the feint. “I’ll keep it in mind,” James said as he came to a stop at the railing, watching Port Royal recede.

He leaned there for some time, watching the far coastline, and he recognized that he felt no desire within him to return to it, at least not for now. He wouldn’t be a fool and expect the approaching time with the incorrigible and practically uncontrollable Jack Sparrow would be all smooth sailing. Quite the opposite. James thought he just might be looking forward to such a lively challenge.

James tilted his head to one side, turning his chin to see the wind tossing the ocean waves, much as he always felt in Jack’s presence. Unawares to himself, a soft, happy smile took his features at the sight.

But Jack noticed the curve of James’s lips. He climbed the steps to the wheel, watching his lover’s hair blow back over his shoulders. After licking one finger and checking the wind, the pirate pulled out his compass and checked it, snapping it closed with a satisfied, cat-that-ate-the-canary smile.

“Drink up me hearties, yo ho…”


End file.
